With the passing of time, as well as the social evolution and genetic exchange, we ended up putting our conscience in the colour of blood and in the salt of tears, and, as if that were not enough, we made our eyes into a kind of mirror turned inwards, with the result that they often show without reserve what we are verbally trying to deny.

...we confidently say that it's not worth trying to reach any conclusions merely because we decide to stop halfway along the path that would lead us straight to them.

...sometimes we ask ourselves why happiness took so long to arrive, why it didn't come sooner, but appears suddenly, as now, when we've given up hope of it ever arriving, it's likely then that we won't know what to do, and rather than it being a question of choosing between laughter and tears, we will be filled by a secret anxiety to which we might not know how to respond at all.

Death has no need to be cruel, taking people's lives is more than enough.

I think we are blind, Blind but seeing, Blind people who can see, but do not see.

There are plenty of reasons not to put up with the world as it is, and if the book has any kind of message, I suppose that's it.

For human words are like shadows, and shadows are incapable of explaining light and between shadow and light there is the opaque body from which words are born.