I still remember the day my father took me to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books for the first time.

I'm not talking to anyone, I'm delivering a monologue. It's the inebriated man's prerogative.

The nurse knew that those who really love, love in silence, with deeds and not with words.

Resentment slowly poisoned my blood and I laughed at myself and my absurd hopes.

One mustn't dream of one's future; one must earn it.

Sometimes feeling and thinking are one and the same.

The only use for military service is that it reveals the number of morons in the population," he would remark. "And that can be discovered in the first two weeks; there's no need for two years. Army, Marriage, the Church and Banking: the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Yes, go on, laugh.