Say the sea. Say the sea. Say the sea. So that perhaps a drop of that magic may wander through time, and something might find it, and save it before it disappears forever. Say the sea. Because it's what we have left. Because faced by the sea, we without crosses, without magic, we must still have a weapon, something, so as not to die in silence, that's all.

The last light, in the last window, went out. Only the unstoppable machine of the sea still tears away at the silence with the cyclical explosion of nocturnal waves, distant memories of sleepwalking storms and the shipwrecks of dream.

We are full of words whose true meaning we haven't been taught, and one of those words is suffering. Another is the word death. We don't know what they mean, but we use them, and this is a mystery.

Perhaps sometimes life shows you a side of itself which leaves you with nothing more to say

I did not love you out or boredom or loneliness or caprice. I loved you because the desire for you was stronger than any happiness.

It’s a strange grief…to die of nostalgia for something you never lived.

Do you have children? she asked. No. Why? The man answered that one had to have faith in the world to have children.