That one individual should awaken in another memories that belong to still a third is an obvious paradox.

When I wake up, I wake to something worse. It’s the astonishment of being myself

Time, which despoils castles, enriches verses.

I would define the baroque as that style that deliberately exhausts (or tries to exhaust) its own possibilities, and that borders on self-caricature. The baroque is the final stage in all art, when art flaunts and squanders its resources.

What a writer wants to do is not what he does.

It also occurred to him that throughout history, humankind has told two stories: the story of a lost ship sailing the Mediterranean seas in quest of a beloved isle, and the story of a god who allows himself to be crucified on Golgotha.

We forget that we are all dead men conversing with dead men.