A good liar knows that the most efficient lie is always a truth that has had a key piece removed from it.

I was raised among books, making invisible friends in pages that seemed cast from dust and whose smell I carry on my hands to this day.

If people thought a quarter of what they speak, this world would be heaven.

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.

The moment you stop to think about whether you love someone, you've already stopped loving that person forever.

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

I decided that my existence would be one of books and silence.