These transient fits of oscitation, and inactivity, are perhaps no more than a necessary relaxation to the mind, and serve to quicken its faculties to a more lively sensation of returning pleasure.

Masterpieces are not completed, they are abandoned.

Shafak sketches these Armenians flatly and superficially, as uniformly and fiercely anti-Turk — and as overprotectively fretful about beautiful and bookish Armanoush.

I'm shooting my next film in my living room as I type, and I'll see everyone next week, right here, with another crazy tale of YouTubular adventure.