In the world of highways, a beautiful landscape means: an island of beauty connected by a long line with other islands of beauty.

nothing yet. I've been waiting." "for what?" she made no response. she could not tell him that she had been waiting for him.

At the end of true love is death, and only the love that ends in death is love.

Living, there is no happiness in that. Living: carrying one’s painful self through the world. But being, being is happiness. Being: Becoming a fountain, a fountain on which the universe falls like warm rain.

Tomas did not realize at the time that metaphors are dangerous. Metaphors are not to be trifled with. A single metaphor can give birth to love.

There is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one's own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels for someone, pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echos.

Without the meditative background that is criticism, works become isolated gestures, historical accidents, soon forgotten.