Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul. The soul of the person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it. Every time a book changes hands, every time someone runs his eyes down its pages, its spirit grows and strengthens.

Sometimes feeling and thinking are one and the same.

Time curses all, I thought, except the truth.

Julian spoke with the clear, unequivocal lucidity of madmen who have escaped the hypocrisy of having to abide by a reality that makes no sense.

I was aware of the risks I was taking, but I did'nt care.

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

It's up to you how you waste your time and money. I'm staying here to read: life's too short.