Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul. The soul of the person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it. Every time a book changes hands, every time someone runs his eyes down its pages, its spirit grows and strengthens.
Everything can be forgiven in this world, save telling the truth.
The words with which a child's heart is poisoned, whether through malice or through ignorance, remain branded in his memory, and sooner or later they burn his soul.
It seems that in the advanced stages of stupidity, a lack of ideas is compensated for by an excess of ideologies.
Keep your dreams, you never know when you might need them.
Destiny doesn't do home visits... you have to go for it yourself.
There are two things in life you cannot choose. The first is your enemies; the second your family. Sometimes the difference between them is hard to see, but in the end time will show you that the cards you have been dealt could always have been worse.
somethings can only be seen in the shadows
Fools talk, cowards are silent, wise men listen.
There are people you remember and people you dream of.
...until that moment I had not understood that this was a story about lonely people, about absence and loss, and that that was why I had taken refuge in it until it became confused with my own life, like someone who has escaped into the pages of a novel because those whom he needs to love seem nothing more than ghosts inhabiting the mind of a stranger.
We all give up great expectations along the way.
Waiting is the rust of the soul.
Few things are more deceptive than memories.
People with a meagre soul always try to make others feel small too.
One mustn't dream of one's future; one must earn it.
Time has taught me not to lose hope, yet not to trust too much in hope either.
You know who your true friends are when things go wrong for you, but the opposite is also true. When things go well, the people who really love you are happy.
Remember me, even if it's only in a corner and secretly. Don't let me go.
None of us are what we once were.
It is impossible to survive in a prolonged state of reality.
It's up to you how you waste your time and money. I'm staying here to read: life's too short.
The air seemed poisoned with fear and hatred. People eyed on another suspiciously, and the streets smelled of a silence that knotted your stomach.
It is impossible to survive in a prolonged state of reality, at least for human beings. We spend a good part of our lives dreaming, especially when we're awake.
People tend to complicate their own lives, as if living weren't already complicated enough.
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