It's the hour when night breaks away from the day, my dove, let me go.

It's a true image, born of a false spectacle.

There is a close relationship between flowers and convicts. The fragility and delicacy of the former are of the same nature as the brutal insensitivity of the latter.

It's the hour when night breaks away from the day, my dove, let me go.

...the characters in my books all resemble each other. They live, with minor variations, the same moments, the same perils, and when I speak of them, my language, which is inspired by them, repeats the same poems in the same tone.

My heart's in my hand, and my hand is pierced, and my hand's in the bag, and the bag is shut, and my heart is caught.

Anyone who's never experienced the pleasure of betrayal doesn't know what pleasure is.