Then he made one last effort to search in his heart for the place where his affection had rotted away, and he could not find it.

The world was reduced to the surface of her skin and her inner self was safe from all bitterness.

Although some men who were easy with their words said that it was worth sacrificing one’s life for a night of love with such an arousing woman, the truth was that no one made any effort to do so. Perhaps, not only to attain her but also to conjure away her dangers, all that was needed was a feeling as primitive and as simple as that of love, but that was the only thing that did not occur to anyone.

The woman let out an expansive laugh that resounded through the house like a spray of broken glass.

A great commotion immobilized her in her center of gravity, planted her in her place, and her defensive will was demolished by the irresistible anxiety to discover what the orange bells and whistles and the invisible globes on the other side of death were like.

He was weary of the uncertainty of the vicious circle of that eternal war that always found him in the same place, but always older, wearier, even more in the position of not knowing why, or how, or even when.

All my life, I've been frightened at the moment I sit down to write.