Ultimately, literature is nothing but carpentry.

Music is important for one's health.

Life in the world... was nothing more than a system of atavistic contracts, banal ceremonies, preordained words, with which people entertained each other in society in order not to commit murder. The dominant sign in that paradise of provincial frivolity was fear of the unknown.

She sensed it, saw my eyes wet with tears, and only then must have discovered I was no longer the man I had been, and I endured her glance with a courage I never thought I had.

I want the same one, the way she always is, without failures, without fights, without bad memories.

In her final years she would still recall the trip that, with the perverse lucidity of nostalgia, became more and more recent in her memory.

He was weary of the uncertainty of the vicious circle of that eternal war that always found him in the same place, but always older, wearier, even more in the position of not knowing why, or how, or even when.