Every book in the world is out there waiting to be read by me.

Even on the poorest streets people could be heard laughing. Some of these streets were completely dark, like black holes, and the laughter that came from who knows where was the only sign, the only beacon that kept residents and strangers from getting lost.

In some lost fold of the past, we wanted to be lions and we're no more than castrated cats

For her, reading was directly linked to pleasure, not to knowledge or enigmas or constructions or verbal labyrinths.

Of all the islands he'd visited, two stood out. The island of the past, he said, where the only time was past time and the inhabitants were bored and more or less happy, but where the weight of illusion was so great that the island sank a little deeper into the river every day. And the island of the future, where the only time was the future, and the inhabitants were planners and strivers, such strivers, said Ulises, that they were likely to end up devouring one another.

We never stop reading, although every book comes to an end, just as we never stop living, although death is certain.

When I was done traveling, I returned convinced of one thing: we're nothing.