“Good artists copy. Great artists steal.”

—	Pablo Picasso

Πραγματικά θα μ’ άρεσε να γίνω συγγραφέας.  Δεν λέω θέλω -γιατί θέλω πολλά πράγματα. Ούτε λέω μπορώ -γιατί δεν ξέρω αν μπορώ. Απλά θα μ’ άρεσε να δω κάποια μέρα ένα βιβλίο που θα ξέρω ότι είναι αληθινό και ότι το έχω γράψει εγώ. Θα είναι το δικό μου μυστικό. Και μια μέρα θα το μοιραστώ και με τον υπόλοιπο κόσμο.

"I prefer the mystic clouds of nostalgia to the real thing, to be honest."

I hadn’t realised how much I had missed summer. And not just any summer but summer in Greece. It’s as if all things look different under the strong summer sun. And the way the sea shines in the morning, like a lost diamond waiting to be found. It’s as if something is calling you to touch the crystal clear waters and slowly dive in.

“She was a girl who knew how to be happy even when she was sad. And that’s important.”

“You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person died for no reason.”
—Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

 She realised there were parts of her she didn’t even know they existed. Skills she didn’t even know she had. And that thought made her happy.

“THERE WAS MUSIC FROM MY NEIGHBOUR’S HOUSE THROUGH THE SUMMER NIGHTS. IN HIS BLUE GARDENS MEN AND GIRLS CAME AND WENT LIKE MONTHS AMONG THE WHISPERINGS AND THE CHAMPAGNE AND THE STARS."

—	F. SCOTT FITZGERALD