I traveled the globe as always, handing souls to the conveyor belt of eternity.
I laugh and the stars watch.
I guess it’s for life beyond these pages.
I don't have much interest in building mystery. Mystery bores me. It chores me. I know what happens and so do you. It's the machinations that wheel us there that aggravate, perplex, interest, and asto...
I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. And that’s only the A’s. Just don’t ask me to be nice. Nice has nothing to do with me.
He would wink at the girl and, clumsily, she’d wink back.
He loved her more than Michelangelo.
First the colours.Then the humans.That’s usually how I see things.Or at least, how I try.
Don't get caught.' This from a man who'd stolen a Jew.
Cuando empezó a escribir su historia, se preguntó por el momento exacto en que los libros y las palabras no sólo comenzaban a tener algún significado, sino que lo significaban todo.
Believe it or not – it takes a lot of love to hate you like this.
Avete mai notato che gli idioti hanno un sacco di amici?
As weeks edge past us, he fights and wins and he doesn't bother shaving. He turns up and wins. Turns up and wins. He only smiles when *I* fight well.
A thirteen-year-old heart shouldn't feel like this.
A single word leaned against the girl.
A GUIDED TOUR OF SUFFERING: To your left, perhaps your right, perhaps even straight ahead, you find a small black room. In it sits a Jew. He is scum. He is starving. He is afraid. Please - try not to...
El judaísmo no dejaba de ser una etiqueta,...
None of them had it. They had no qualms about stealing, but they needed to be told. They liked to be told, and Viktor Chemmel liked to be the teller. It was a nice microcosm.
She would later write in the basemen.
...there would be punishment and pain, and there would be happiness, too. That was writing.