The art of conducting consists in knowing when to stop conducting to let the orchestra play.
I just don't know how to stitch words in a predictable way sometimes. It's a weird instinct I've developed.
In the end we're all searching for our home, that one place where we belong.
If I cannot offer some relief to our world, if I cannot inspire our generation to join me, then I feel I am a complete waste of space. This constant fear of feeling irrelevant in our society has been the catalyst behind all my efforts and passions for as long as I can remember.
I would like my books to stand as a tool to unbind children from expectations of poetry because it should free the child to self-expression and exploration.
I know that there's this one Albanian myth that's always reflected on, and I think it reflects on the actual core culture. That myth is called The Besa. B-E-S-A. The Besa is a word that Albanians use to mean avow, but it's such a strong promise, that even past death, one cannot break that promise. It is unfathomable. So if you give someone your besa, life or death, heaven or hell, you have to fulfill that besa.
While some mothers sing lullabies to their children, my mother read me poetry. And to this day, I associate my strongest and most insistent feelings with words lyrically organized on a page.
Most of the time, feelings just seem to get in the way. They're a luxury for the idle, a bourgeois concept. Feelings are overrated.
A boat is safe in the harbor. But this is not the purpose of a boat.
The hard part is implementing the decision, not making it.
Anybody who understands the justice system knows innocent people are convicted every day.