The blood I spit out is good blood and the beer I drink sets the hills of hell on fire. And each day I grow some more like a small cactus sticking those thorns up out of the dryness.
I am not big enough to accept the works of nature; I can only accept what it says inside: I don’t like it. And that’s good enough for me.
Hayır yaşlı dostum, geçmişe özlem duymuyorum, hayat denilen bu nehir ileriye doğru akmalı, ileriye denize doğru, sonsuza kadar...
Sayfa 17 - Sonsuz Kitap
