Islam asserts that on the unappealable Day of Judgment every perpetrator of the image of a living creature will be raised from the dead with his works, and he will be commanded to bring them to life, and he will fail, and be cast out with them into the fires of punishment.

The tango is a direct expression of something that poets have often tried to state in words: the belief that a fight may be a celebration.

Democracy is an abuse of statistics.

Translations are a partial and precious documentation of the changes the text suffers.

The future has no other reality than as present hope, and the past is no more than present memory.

What will die with me the day I die? What pathetic or frail image will be lost to the world? The voice of Macedonio Fernandez, the image of a bay horse in a vacant lot on the corner of Sarrano and Charcas, a bar of sulfur in the drawer of a mahogany desk?

Art is endless like a river flowing, passing, yet remaining.