A short time later, when the carpenter was taking measurements for the coffin, through the window they saw a light rain of tiny yellow flowers falling. They fell on the town all through the night in a silent storm, and they covered the roofs and blocked the doors and smothered the animals who slept outdoors. So many flowers fell from the sky that in the morning the streets were carpeted with a compact cushion and they had to clear them away with shovels and rakes so that the funeral procession could pass by.

Life in the world... was nothing more than a system of atavistic contracts, banal ceremonies, preordained words, with which people entertained each other in society in order not to commit murder. The dominant sign in that paradise of provincial frivolity was fear of the unknown.

For you was I born, for you do I have life, for you will I die, for you am I now dying.

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.

Music is important for one's health.

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

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