“I write because I can’t do normal work like other people. I write because I want to read books like the ones I write.I write because I can only partake in real life by changing it. I write because I love the smell of paper, pen, and ink. I write because I believe in literature, in the art of the novel, more than I believe in anything else. I write because it is a habit, a passion. I write to be alone. I write because I like to be read. I write because I have a childish belief in the immortality of libraries, and in the way my books sit on the shelf. I write because I wish to escape from the foreboding that there is a place I must go but – just as in a dream – I can’t quite get there. I write because I have never managed to be happy. I write to be happy.”

Orhan Pamuk

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