For me, writing [was] a question of survival...I could not trust anyone, even my family. The atmosphere was so poisoned. People even in your own family could turn you in.

Gao Xingjian
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Submitted by: TheQuoted

Love is so holy, so confusing. It makes a man anxious, tormented. Love, how can I define it?

Gao Xingjian
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Submitted by: TheQuoted