Darkness is drawn to light, but light does not know it; light must absorb the darkness and therefore meet its own extinguishment.

shadows of love, inebriations of love, foretastes of love, trickles of love, but never yet the one true love.

It was the first time that I came face to face with madness and feared it and was fascinated by it.

I crossed the room, and what you did was to feel my hair over and over again and in different ways, touch it, with the palm of your hand... felt it, strands of hair, with your fingers, touched it as if it were cloth, the way a child touches its favorite surfaces.

To live with the work and the letters of James Joyce was an enormous privilege and a daunting education. Yes, I came to admire Joyce even more because he never ceased working, those words and the transubstantiation of words obsessed him. He was a broken man at the end of his life, unaware that Ulysses would be the number one book of the twentieth century and, for that matter, the twenty-first.

never forget this moment, the hum of the bee, the saffron threads of the flower, the drawn blinds, nature's assiduousness and human cruelty.

After that dark woman you search for someone who will fit into the irregular corners of your heart.