She had the revelation one Sunday that while the other instruments played for everyone the violen played for her alone .

And nevertheless, when they watched him leave the house, this man they themselves had urged to conquer the world, then they were the ones left with the terror that he would never return. That was their life. Love, if it existed, was something separate: another life.

Nobody is worth crying for, and those that are worth it will not make you cry.

I can't think of any one film that improved on a good novel, but I can think of many good films that came from very bad novels.

No matter what, nobody can take away the dances you've already had.

An ash-gray dog with a white blaze on its forehead burst onto the rough terrain of the market on the first Sunday in December, knocked down tables of fried food, overturned Indians' stalls and lottery kiosks, and bit four people who happened to cross its path.

This was his world, he said to himself, the sad, oppressive world that God had provided for him, and he was responsible to it.