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.

The children would remember for the rest of their lives the august solemnity with which their father, devastated by his prolonged vigil and by the wraith of his imagination, revealed his discovery to them: 'The world is round, like an orange.

In the end all books are written for your friends.

Never stop smiling not even when you're sad, someone might fall in love with your smile.

Music is important for one's health.

I don't have a method. All I do is read a lot, think a lot, and rewrite constantly. It's not a scientific thing.

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