“ But what reality was ever made by realists? ”
Writing is not lying, nor is it theft. It is a journey and search for transparency between one’s words and one’s soul.
~ Richard Flanagan
A good book ... leaves you wanting to reread the book. A great book compels you to reread your own soul.
A good book, he had concluded, leaves you wanting to reread the book. A great book compels you to reread your own soul. Such books were for him rare and, as he aged, rarer. Still he searched, one more Ithaca for which he was forever bound.
What was a prisoner of war anyway? Less than a man, just material to be used to make the railway, like the teak sleepers and steel rails and dog spikes.
