"Things have a life of their own," the gypsy proclaimed with a harsh accent. "It's simply a matter of waking up their souls."

Everyone has three lives: a public life, a private life, and a secret life.

The weak would never enter the kingdom of love.

One can be in love with several people at the same time, feel the sorrow with each, and not betray any of them.

They looked like two children," she told me. And that thought frightened her, because she'd always felt that only children are capable of everything.

You can't eat hope,' the woman said. You can't eat it, but it sustains you,' the colonel replied.

She always had a headache, or it was too hot, always, or she pretended to be asleep, or she had her period again, her period, always her period. So much so that Dr. Urbino had dared to say in class, only for the relief of unburdening himself without confession, that after ten years of marriage women had their periods as often as threes times a week.