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.

I quarreled with every word, every phrase and expression, every image and letter as if they were the last I was ever going to write. I wrote and rewrote every line as if my life depended on it, and then rewrote it again.

Childhood devotions make unfaithful and fickle lovers.

... , listening to the storm outside as it left the city, knowing that I was going to lose her but also knowing that, for a few minutes, we had belonged to one another, and to nobody else.

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

That's what happens when people reach old age; nobody remembers they've been bastards too.

The Cemetery of Forgotten Books is like the greatest, most fantastic library you could ever imagine. Its a labyrinth of books with tunnels, bridges, arches, secret sections - and its hidden inside an old palace in the old city of Barcelona.