Shame has poor memory.

The truth is I'm getting old, I said. We already are old, she said with a sigh. What happens is that you don't feel it on the inside, but from the outside everybody can see it.

It is impossible to explain. But what I like most is to eat.

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.

The interpretation of our reality through patterns not our own, serves only to make us ever more unknown, ever less free, ever more solitary.

She would say, "Someone should invent something to do with things you cannot use anymore but that you still cannot throw out.

One had to live a long time to know a man's true nature.