Futures not achieved are only branches of the past: dead branches.

If a lover is wretched who invokes kisses of which he knows not the flavor, a thousand times more wretched is he who has had a taste of the flavor and then had it denied him.

Don't ask where the rest of this book is!" It is a shrill cry that comes from an undefined spot among the shelves. "All books continue in the beyond.

Everything can change, but not the language that we carry inside us, like a world more exclusive and final than one's mother's womb.

You are about to begin reading Italo Calvino's new novel, If on a winter's night a traveler.

Nobody these days holds the written word in such high esteem as police states do.

The universe is the mirror in which we can contemplate only what we have learned to know in ourselves