I can't think of any one film that improved on a good novel, but I can think of many good films that came from very bad novels.

In the beginning, when the world was new and nothing had a name, my father took me to see the ice.

It is life, more than death, that has no limits.

Taught him the only thing he had to learn about love: that nobody teaches life anything.

It's enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment.

She felt so old, so worn out, so far away from the best moments of her life that she even yearned for those that she remembered as the worst… Her heart of compressed ash, which had resisted the most telling blows of daily reality without strain, fell apart with the first waves of nostalgia. The need to feel sad was becoming a vice as the years eroded her. She became human in her solitude.

She knew that it would not be easy to submit to his miserliness, or the foolishness of his premature appearance of age, or his maniacal sense of order, or his eagerness to as for everything and give nothing at all in return, but despite all this, no man was better company because no other man in the world was so in need of love.