To him she seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people, that he could not understand why no one was as disturbed as he by the clicking of her heels on the paving stones, why no one else's heart was wild with the breeze stirred by the sighs of her veils, why everyone did not go mad with the movements of her braid, the flight of her hands, the gold of her laughter. He had not missed a single one of her gestures, not one of the indications of her character, but he did not dare approach her for fear of destroying the spell.

Take advantage of it now, while you are young, and suffer all you can, because these things don't last your whole life.

I would not have traded the delights of my suffering for anything in the world.

...and the cries of the birds and the uproar of the monkeys became more and more remote, and the world became eternally sad. The men on the expedition felt overwhelmed by their most ancient memories in that paradise of dampness and silence, going back to before original sin, as their boots sank into pools of steaming oil and their machetes destroyed bloody lilies and golden salamanders.

Unfortunately many young writers are more concerned with fame than with their own work... It's much more important to write than to be written about.

They were so close to each other that they preferred death to separation.

wisdom comes to us when it can no longer do any good.