Even if the sky is ready for you, there is no room for the things you want. A thousand disguises, a language that is not used, a manner that does not change, a blissful sleep, an impression that is not profound...the story of any man who lived in these is not a complete masterpiece. We also have faults. Then what do we get after reading anyone's story?... The best work for this world is never written... It started and everyone left. There is no right way to live. There is no specific way to live. Fear when you see some, fear when you read some, anxiety when you hear some. Gloomy days are the greatest sorrows. Who survives beyond three generations? Who is left to enter the new century? Everyone's stories fall where they are.