My taste runs to hourglasses, maps, seventeenth-century typefaces, etymologies, the taste of coffee, and the prose of Robert Louis Stevenson.
What man of us has never felt, walking through the twilight or writing down a date from his past, that he has lost something infinite?
Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fir...
Man's memory shapesIts own Eden within
All men who repeat a line from Shakespeare are William Shakespeare
Cervantes' text and Menard's are verbally identical; but the second is almost infinitely richer.
APRENDIENDODespués de un tiempo, uno aprende la sutil diferencia entre sostener una mano y encadenar un alma, y uno aprende que el amor no significa acostarse y una compañía no significa seguridad, y...
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