To him the stars seemed like so many musical notes affixed to the sky, just waiting for somebody to unfasten them. Someday the sky would be emptied, but by then the earth would be a constellation of musical scores

Tomorrow's sun is on it's way - a relentless sun, inscrutable like life.

Por que bonita, se coxa? Por que coxa, se bonita?

I considered the case and realized that if something can exist in opinion without existing in reality, or exist in reality without existing in opinion, the conclusion is that of the two parallel lives, only opinion is necessary – not reality, which is only a secondary consideration.

Dreams disdain fine lines and finishing touches on landscapes – they content themselves with thick but representative brushstrokes.

We kill time; time buries us.

Let Pascal say that man is a thinking reed. He is wrong; man is a thinking erratum. Each period in life is a new edition that corrects the preceding one and that in turn will be corrected by the next, until publication of the definitive edition, which the publisher donates to the worms.