And again, as always, after so many years we were still in the same place we always were.

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

It was a lone voice in the middle of the ocean, but it was heard at great depth and great distance.

Thinking that it would console him, she took a piece of charcoal and erased the innumerable loves that he still owed her for, and she voluntarily brought up her own most solitary sadnesses so as not to leave him alone in his weeping.

I don't have a method. All I do is read a lot, think a lot, and rewrite constantly. It's not a scientific thing.

The most important thing Paris gave me was a perspective on Latin America. It taught me the differences between Latin America and Europe and among the Latin American countries themselves through the Latins I met there.

Ultimately, literature is nothing but carpentry.