When people are expecting to see nothing that is usually what they see.
Side by side, together and miles apart, we are deep in our books.
Holding up a single picture and studying it with a frown. She’s seen a ghost,
Her fear of action was overtaken by her fear of inaction.
Being nice is what’s left when you’ve failed at everything else. People with ambition don’t give a damn what other people think about them.
Any number of peas under the mattress and I would not know it—
Why do they spend their time with cows when they are surely the more natural companions to unicorns, griffins and dragons? The answer is that the rook lives as he wishes. When he wants the entertainme...
What unnerved me more than all the rest were her sunglasses. I could not see her eyes but, as I remembered the inhuman green irises from the poster, her dark lenses seemed to develop the force of a se...
What is it that allows human beings to see through each other's pretendings? For I understood quite clearly in that moment that she was anxious. Perhaps emotions have a smell or taste; perhaps we tran...
We turned into the rose garden where the pruned bushes appeared as piles of dead twigs, but the elaborate borders of box that surrounded them in sinuous Elizabethan patterns twisted in and out of the...
We live like latecomers at the theatre; we must catch up as best we can, dividing the beginning from the shape of later events.
Una mente fatigada tiende a tomar derroteros infructuosos; no hay nada que una buena noche de sueño no pueda reparar.
Todos tenemos nuestros dolores, y aunque la forma, el peso y las dimensiones del dolor son diferentes para cada persona, el color del dolor es común a todos nosotros.
To make it true? Was it for me or for her that he made these thankless efforts to connect us? It was an impossible task.
They were like amputees, only it was not a limb they were missing, but their very souls.
Sometimes you can know things. Things about yourself. Things from before you can remember.
No one can hold you to a decision made in the middle of the night.
Miss Winter restored to me the virginal qualities of the novice reader, and then with her stories she ravished me.
I know,' he said, because he was human, and therefore, in a way, he did.
Ask him to tell you about when he was born. What you get won’t be the truth; it will be a story.