Few things are more deceptive than memories.

Childhood devotions make unfaithful and fickle lovers.

All I know is that once Julián told the kids in the building that he had a sister only he could see. He said she came out of mirrors as if she were made of thin air and that she lived with Satan himself in a palace at the bottom of a lake.

Don Basilio was a forbidding-looking man with a bushy mustache who did not suffer fools and who subscribed to the theory that the liberal use of adverbs and adjectives was the mark of a pervert or someone with a vitamin deficiency.

One of the pitfalls of childhood is that one doesn't have to understand something to feel it. By the time the mind is able to comprehend what has happened, the wounds of the heart are already too deep.

Remember me, even if it's only in a corner and secretly. Don't let me go.

I could tell you it's the heart, but what is really killing him is loneliness. Memories are worse than bullets.