Literature, at least good literature, is science tempered with the blood of art. Like architecture or music.

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.

Well, this is a story about books." About books?" About accursed books, about a man who wrote them, about a character who broke out of the pages of anovel so that he could burn it, about a betrayal and a lost friendship. It's a story of love, of hatred, and of the dreams that live in the shadow of the wind." You talk like the jacket blurb of a Victorian novel, Daniel." That's probably because I work in a bookshop and I've seen too many. But this is a true story.

I think you judge yourself too severely, a quality that always distinguishes people of true worth.

Sometimes feeling and thinking are one and the same.

Childhood devotions make unfaithful and fickle lovers.

Coincidences are the scars of fate.