Sleep in my arms. Like a baby bird. Like a broom among brooms... in a broom closet. Like a tiny parrot. Like a whistle. Like a little song. A song sung by a forest... within a forest... a thousand years ago.

How did the senator know that children meant happiness? Could he see into their souls? What if the moment they were out of sight, three of them jumped the fourth and began beating him up?

The stupidity of people comes from having an answer for everything. The wisdom of the novel comes from having a question for everything.

Einmal ist keinmal, says Tomas to himself. What happens but once, says the German adage, might as well not have happened at all. If we have only one life to live, we might as well not have lived at all.

But which was the real me? Let me be perfectly honest: I was a man of many faces. (p.33)

If I hadn't met you, I'd certainly have fallen in love with him.

Physical love is unthinkable without violence.