The beauty and mystery of this world only emerges through affection, attention, interest and compassion . . . open your eyes wide and actually see this world by attending to its colors, details and irony.

[N]othing is as surprising as life. Except for writing. Except for writing. Yes, of course, except for writing, the only consolation.

Are you an angel that approaching you should be so terrifying?

The real choice we have to make is between peace and nationalism.

She looked out the window; in her eyes was the light that you see only in children arriving at a new place, or in young people still open to new influences, still curious about the world because they have not yet been scarred by life.

The snow reminded me of the beauty and mystery of creation, of the essential joy that is life.

Age had not made him less handsome, as is so often the case; it had simply made him less visible.