He was a very private person, and sometimes it seemed to me that he was no longer interested in the world or in other people... I got the feeling that Julián was living in the past, locked in his memories. Julián lived within himself, for his books and inside them - a comfortable prison of his own design." "You say this as if you envied him." "There are worse prisons than words.
Whoever said that childhood is the happiest time of your life is a liar, or a fool.
Wine turns the wise man into a fool and the fool into a wise man.
You women listen more to your heart and less to all the nonsense. That's why you live longer.
Why is it that the less one has to say the more one says it in the most pompous and pedantic way possible?... Is it to fool the world or just to fool themselves?
He lost himself in the words and images conjured in his mind and for a while forgot ... He found himself flying among stars and planets.
Every labyrinth has its minotaur
Write," he said. "I'll write to you as soon as I get there," answered Julian. "No. Not to me. Write books. Not letters. Write them for me, for Penelope.
A Gentleman's agreement cannot be broken without breaking the person who has entered into it.
Contrary to what you believe, the earth does not revolve around the desires of your crotch.
You don't win a game by hitting the ball out of the court.
I prefer you like this, when you're in a foul mood, because you tell the truth.
I discovered that seventeen-year-old girls have such huge verbal energy that their brain drives them to expend it every twenty seconds. On the third day I decided I had to find her a boyfriend -- if possible, a deaf one.
It was a well-known fact that the richness of buttery foods led to the moral ruin and confusion of the intellect.
I leafed through the pages, inhaling the enchanted scent of promise that comes with all new books, and stopped to read the start of a sentence that caught my eye.
I hoped my absence made them happy or at least made them forget that they weren't happy and never will be.
A book is a mirror that offers us only what we already carry inside us.
[H]e lay awake, dreading the dawn when he would have to say good-bye to the small universe he had built for himself over the years.
It's the student who makes the teacher, not the other way around.
Does the madman know he is mad? Or are the madmen those who insist o. Convincing him of his unreason in order to safeguard their own idea of reality?
They had parted as boys, and now life presented one of them with a fugitive and the other with a dying man. Both wondered whether this was due to the cards they'd been dealt or to the way they had played them.
Presents are made for the pleasure of who gives them, not the merits of who receives them.
A secret's worth depends on the people from whom it must be kept.
Every time a book changes hands, every time someone runs his eyes down its pages, its spirit grows and strengthens.
In my schoolboy reveries, we were always two fugitives riding on the spine of a book, eager to escape into worlds of fiction and secondhand dreams.
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