Men like women who write. Even though they don't say so. A writer is a foreign country.
You didn't have to attract desire. Either it was in the woman who aroused it or it didn't exist. Either it was there at first glance or else it had never been.
The words emerge from her body without her realizing it, as if she were being visited by the memory of a language long forsaken.
Night.The beach and the sea are in darkness.A dog passes, going toward the sea wall.No one walks on the boardwalk, but, on the benches lining it, people sit. They relax. Are silent. Separated from one...
Muy pronto en mi vida fue demasiado tarde.
La historia de mi vida no existe. Eso no existe. Nunca hay centro. Ni camino, ni línea. Hay bastos pasajes donde se insinúa que alguien hubo, no es cierto, no hubo nadie.
Katkad kažemo ubiću se, a potom nastavimo da čitamo knjigu.
I meet you. I remember you. Who are you? You’re destroying me. You’re good for me. How could I know this city was tailor-made for love? How could I know you fit my body like a glove? I like you. How u...
Finding yourself in a hole, at the bottom of a hole, in almost total solitude, and discovering that only writing can save you. To be without the slightest subject for a book, the slightest idea for a...
Sen bu öyküden pek hoşlanmıyorsun, dedi.-Öyküyü öğrenmem için, bu bir neden olamaz. Yine de bilmek isterim.-Yoksa o mu? Hoşuna gitmeyen kendisi mi yoksa?-Sanırım, öyle. Yani, Cebelitarık denizcilerind...
لا ينبغي للنساء أن يُطلعن عُشّاقهنّ على ما يضعن مِن كتُب
You give me a great desire to love.
The story of my life doesn't exist. Does not exist. There's never any center to it. No path, no line. There are great spaces where you pretend there used to be someone, but it's not true, there was no...
She says people ought to learn to live like them, with the body abandoned in a wilderness, and in the mind the memory of a single kiss, a single word, a single look to stand for a whole love.
Que se serait-il passé ? Lol ne va pas loin dans l'inconnu sur lequel s'ouvre cet instant. Elle ne dispose d'aucun souvenir même imaginaire, elle n'a aucune idée sur cet inconnu. Mais ce qu'elle croit...
One day,I was already old, a man came up to me in the street.
No se trata de que sea necesario conseguir algo, sino de que es necesario salirse de donde se está
L´homme se croit un héros, toujours comme l´enfant. L´homme aime la guerre, la chasse, la pêche, les motos, les autos, comme l´enfant. Quand il dort, ca se voit, et on aime les hommes comme ca, les fe...
Llorar, es necesario que eso también suceda.
I’ve never written, though I thought I wrote, never loved, though I thought I loved, never done anything but wait outside the closed door.