It is easier to imagine the death of one person than that of a hundred or a thousand... Multiplied, suffering becomes abstract. It is not easy to be moved by abstract things.

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When I thought I was going to lose my mind in the face of so much suffering. This is how I discovered that a human being cannot live without believing.

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He felt immense tenderness for her. He was sure that he would always love her, for my happiness and also my misfortune.

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Science is still only a candle glimmering in a great pitch-dark cavern.

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No matter how ephemeral it is, a novel is something, while despair is nothing.

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I convinced her that her first loyalty isn't to other people, but to her own feelings.

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Although they say that only idiots are happy, I confess that I felt happy.

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Its easy to know what you want to say, but not to say it.

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Memory is a snare, pure and simple; it alters, it subtly rearranges the past to fit the present.

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One can't fight with oneself, for this battle has only one loser.

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