The wisest man I ever knew in my whole life could not read or write.

There are such moments in life, when, in order for heaven to open, it is necessary for a door to close.

We use words to understand each other and even, sometimes, to find each other.

A writer is a man like any other: he dreams. And my dream was to be able to say of this book, when I finished: 'This is a book about Alentejo.'

The difficult thing isn't living with other people, it's understanding them.

I do not just write, I write what I am. If there is a secret, perhaps that is it.

Reading is probably another way of being in a place.