The startling reality of things is my discovery every single day.
Nobody appropriates novelties as readily as the Portuguese.
Life is full of paradoxes, as roses are of thorns.
Iām losing my taste for everything, including even my taste for finding everything tasteless.
On the road halfway between faith and criticism stands the inn of reason. Reason is faith in what can be understood without faith, but it's still a faith, since to understand presupposes that there's something understandable.
I've reached the point where tedium is a person, the incarnate fiction of my own company.