We're all time's captives, hostages to eternity.

Most people experience love, without noticing that there is anything remarkable about it.

As before the collapse, the setting sun brushed the tiles, brought out the warm brown glow on the wallpaper, and hung the shadow of the birch on the wall as if it were a woman's scarf.

I hate everything you say, but not enough to kill you for it.

How wonderful to be alive, he thought. But why does it always hurt?

All mothers are mothers of great people, and it is not their fault that life later disappoints them.

They don't ask much of you. They only want you to hate the things you love and to love the things you despise.