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We do not judge the people we love.

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I hate victims who respect their executioners.

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It answers the question that was tormenting you: my love, you are not 'one thing in my life' - not even the most important - because my life no longer...more

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Concha would cry when she found out I was dead, she should have no taste for life for months afterward. But I was still the one who was going to die. ...more

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In love, one and one are one.

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The first crime was mine: I committed it when I made man mortal. Once I had done that, what was left for you, poor human murderers, to do? To kill you...more

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Good digestions, the gray monotony of provincial life, and the boredom—ah the soul-destroying boredom—of long days of mild content.

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He raised himself on his hands and looked at Irene's face: the nudity of that feminine body had risen into her face, the body had reabsorbed it, as na...more