I looked up towards the immensity of the labyrinth. "How does one choose a single book among so many?" Isaac shrugged his shoulders. 'Some like to believe it's the book that chooses the person...destiny, in other words.

And here I was thinking you were a bit slow, what with so much asking and not knowing anything.

Most of us have the good or bad fortune of seeing our lives fall apart so slowly we barely notice.

His soul is in his stories. I once asked him who inspired him to create his characters, and his answer was no one. That all his characters were himself.

Paris is the only city in the world where starving to death is still considered an art.

The world's very small when you don't have anywhere to go.

People tend to complicate their own lives, as if living weren't already complicated enough.