The novelist teaches the reader to comprehend the world as a question.

The eye... the point where a person's identity is concentrated.

Only the most naive of questions are truly serious.

If excitement is a mechanism our Creator uses for His own amusement, love is something that belongs to us alone and enables us to flee the Creator. Love is our freedom. Love lies beyond "Es Muss sein!

People fascinated by the idea of progress never suspect that every step forward is also a step on the way to the end.

loves are like empires: when the idea they are founded on crumbles, they, too, fade away.

Yes, it was too late, and Sabina knew she would leave Paris, move on, and on again, because were she to die here they would cover her up with a stone, and in the mind of a woman for whom no place is home the thought of an end to all flight is unbearable.