The most important meetings have already been combined by souls before the bodies are even created. Usually, they happen when we reach a limit, when we need to die and be reborn emotionally. Meetings await us, but most of the time we avoid them happening. If we're desperate, instead, if we have nothing left to lose or we're quite enthusiastic about life, then the unknown occurs and our universe changes tack. (from "11 minutes")
But now I knew that true love was above all that and that it would be better to die than to fail to love. I had thought that only others had the courage to love. But now I discovered that I too was capable of loving. Even if loving meant leaving, or solitude, or sorrow, love was worth every penny of its price. (from By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept)
My world... This great absurd being. One couldn't even wonder where it came from, all this, nor why a wold existed rather than nothing. It didn't have any sense, the world was present everywhere, in front, behind. There was nothing before that. Nothing. There wasn't a moment in which it couldn't have not existed. It was exactly this which irritated me: without a doubt there was no reason for it to exist, this crawling larvae. But it wasn't possible for it not to exist. It was unthinkable: to imagine nothingness one needed to be there already, in a full world, as a living soul, with wide eyes, nothingness was but an idea in my head, an existing idea, fluctuating within that immensity: that nothingness didn't come before existence, it was an existence like many others and appeared after many others.
I love scandals about other people, but scandals about myself do not interest me. The have not got the charm of novelty.
I'll not lie there by myself: they may bury me twelve feet deep, and throw the church down over me, but I won't rest till you are with me. I never will!
Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing.
No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself.
A woman's imagination is very fast, it jumps from the admiration of love and from love to marriage in but a moment.
Cold as night, cold as death, no breath of air to stir her locks, no human sound to reach her ear, no ray of light within her eye - broken weighed down by chains.
There are two ways of looking at someone's face. One is looking at their eyes as a part of it. The other is looking at the eyes only, as if they were the face. It's one of those things that intimidate when you do them. Because the eyes are a miniature of life. White around, like the nothingness in which life drifts, the coloured iris, like the unpredictable variety that portrays it, until diving into the black of the pupil that swallows everything, like a dark well without colour and without bottom. And that's where I plunged looking at Silvia that way, in the deep ocean of her life, entering inside and letting her enter mine: the eyes but I couldn't stand the look. Silvia could.