The rain would not have bothered Fernanda, after all, her whole life had been spent as if it were raining.

He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.

Four geological eras had to pass so that human beings would be able to outsing the birds and die for love.

Just imagine, a cow on the balcony of the nation, what an awful thing, what a shitty country.

The heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good.

In journalism just one fact that is false prejudices the entire work. In contrast, in fiction one single fact that is true gives legitimacy to the entire work. That's the only difference, and it lies in the commitment of the writer. A novelist can do anything he wants so long as he makes people believe in it.

...The girl raised her eyes to see who was passing by the window, and that casual glance was the beginning of a cataclysm of love that still had not ended half a century later.