A famous writer who wants to continue writing has to be constantly defending himself against fame.

In the end all books are written for your friends.

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

She had never imagined that curiosty was one of the many masks of love .

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

Love does not die, when someone gets old, people get old, because they can not love anymore.

She wanted to be herself again, to recover all that she had been obliged to give up in half a century of servitude that had doubtless made her happy but which, once her husband was dead, did not leave her even the vestiges of her identity.