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A szemeimről ezt írta:

"A small, tiny, dark island shrouded in mystery, hidden by the fog of secrecy - surrounded, hugged, well protected by deep seas, holding great treasures and hidden beauties in its depths - all of these, sealed, blocked by a seemingly impassable ring of reef. Though it protects harm from the outside, it can't protect from danger in the inside. Shuts off pain, but doesn't let in or out joy. If I were a sailor (and maybe I am), a discoverer seeking unexplored, and gripping areas, I'll try to pass the reef, through manuevering, with skill or slight force, patience or mild fierceness, and timing and acting - no matter the cost, even if I lost and ruin my ship. I'll swim if I must in the cold, cold sea at the cost of drowning and sinking into the deep. I simply must. I have to. There are so many precious things that must be revealed from the depths: unbelieviable masterpieces, idols of beauty, mindstimulating scriptures, books of knowledge and intelligence, joysprouting figurines, tales of humor and wittiness... How can someone just forbid the call of these kind of rarities? But the true gift from life, the real honor would be to run aground on that feet-never-touched-and-visited island."

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