Poetry is written with tears, fiction with blood, and history with invisible ink.

I tried to swallow his nonsense without choking.

He was a very private person, and sometimes it seemed to me that he was no longer interested in the world or in other people... I got the feeling that Julián was living in the past, locked in his memories. Julián lived within himself, for his books and inside them - a comfortable prison of his own design." "You say this as if you envied him." "There are worse prisons than words.

We seem to live in a world where forgetting and oblivion are an industry in themselves and very, very few people are remotely interested or aware of their own recent history, much less their neighbors'. I tend to think we are what we remember, what we know. The less we remember, the less we know about ourselves, the less we are. (Interview with Three Monkeys Online, October 2008)

There was no more good or evil in this world than we imagine there to be, either out of greed or out of innocence. Or sometimes madness.

Few things are more deceptive than memories.

To truly hate is an art one learns with time.