Los mejores recolectores de palabras eran los que comprendían el verdadero poder de las palabras, los que subían más alto.
Life had altered in the wildest possible way, but it was imperative that they act as if nothing at all had happened.
It’s hard not to like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them.
I s'pose, I can't have it all my own way, can I? You can't drown in a person unless they let you.
I realize that nothing belongs to her anymore and she belongs to everything.
Henry Street.
He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.
Hasta la muerte tiene corazón.
Can a wolfe be beautiful?
Burning words were torn from their sentences.
At times, it makes me want to stop and stay. Stay for ever.
As winter set in, she was no longer a victim of Sister Maria’s frustrations, preferring to watch as others were marched out to the corridor and given their just rewards. The sound of another student s...
As usual, I collected humans. I was tired. And the year wasn't even halfway over yet.
A bathrobe answered the door. Inside it, a woman...
The journey continued like had happened.
—Soy un imbécil.No, papá.Sólo eres un hombre.
—Alles gut, Saumensch?No necesitaba una respuesta.Todo iba bien.Pero era terrible.
You save someone.You kill them.
When death has a story to tell, you listen.
What great malice there could be in allowing something to live.