Posted by: Marta C.
In this life you can forgive everything, except the truth.
from the book "" by Carlos Ruiz Zafón
In this life you can forgive everything, except the truth.
One of the many traps of childhood is that it is not necessary to understand to suffer.
You don't find the truth, she finds you.
One doesn't know what thirst is until one drinks for the first time.
As a burglar I was worthless, but as a liar I must confess that I have always been an artist.
If a doctor had been present, perhaps he would have been able to stop the haemorrhaging that took Penelope's life, while she shrieked and scratched at the locked door, on the other side of which her father wept in silence and her mother cowered, staring at her husband. (...) When at last they opened the door and found Penelope lying dead in a pool of her own blood, hugging a shining, purple-coloured baby, nobody was capable of uttering a single word.
I stepped into the bookshop and breathed in that perfume of paper and magic that strangely no one had ever thought of bottling.
She possessed a strange charm that seduced in a slow but relentless way.
The majority of the traditions are not other that the diseases of a society.
When he had to flatter Isobel, Siraj did not know his dignity's boudaries.