Cease, cows, life is short.

I think that the idea that I'm writing for many more people than I ever imagined has created a certain general responsibility that is literary and political. There's even pride involved, in not wanting to fall short of what I did before.

As I kissed her the heat of her body increased, and it exhaled a wild, untamed fragrance.

And both of them remained floating in an empty universe where the only everyday & eternal reality was love.

The fact is that being seductive is an addiction that can never be satisfied.

She felt so old, so worn out, so far away from the best moments of her life that she even yearned for those that she remembered as the worst… Her heart of compressed ash, which had resisted the most telling blows of daily reality without strain, fell apart with the first waves of nostalgia. The need to feel sad was becoming a vice as the years eroded her. She became human in her solitude.

That's maybe the reason he does so many things so that he will not have to think .