Don't open that door," she said. "The hallway is full of difficult dreams." And I asked her: "How do you know?" And she told me: "Because I was there a moment ago and I had to come back when I discovered I was sleeping on my heart.

The only regret I will have in dying is if it is not for love.

The usual for me." The usual was a strong infusion of different kinds of Oriental teas, which raised her spirits after her siesta.

It is not true that people stop pursuing dreams because they grow old, they grow old because they stop pursuing dreams.

The type he preferred was the opposite: those skinny little tadpoles that no one bothered to turn around and look at in the street, who seemed to disappear when they took off their clothes, who made you feel sorry for them when their bones cracked at the first impact, and yet who could leave the man who bragged the most about his virility ready for the trashcan.

He thought that the world would make more rapid progress without the burden of old people.