Life is beautiful if you are on the road to somewhere
Happiness is laughing together.
Tell me then, does love make one a fool or do only fools fall in love?
The beauty and mystery of this world only emerges through affection, attention, interest and compassion . . . open your eyes wide and actually see this world by attending to its colors, details and irony.
Before my birth there was infinite time, and after my death, inexhaustible time. I never thought of it before: I’d been living luminously between two eternities of darkness.
Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen.
Happiness is holding someone in your arms and knowing you hold the whole world.
The gap between compassion and surrender is love’s darkest, deepest region.
I read a book one day and my whole life was changed.
How much can we ever know about the love and pain in another heart? How much can we hope to understand those who have suffered deeper anguish, greater deprivation, and more crushing disappointments than we ourselves have known?
Love is a sacred silence.
We live but for a short time, we see but very little, and we know almost nothing; so, at least, let’s do some dreaming. Have yourself a very good Sunday, my dear readers.
Without patience and the skill of a craftsman, even the greatest talent is wasted.
Life is short, and we should respect every moment of it.
The past is always an invented land.
If we give what we treasure most to a Being we love with all our hearts, if we can do that without expecting anything in return, then the world becomes a beautiful place.
There are two kind of men,’ said Ka, in a didatic voice. ‘The first kind does not fall in love until he’s seen how the girls eats a sandwich, how she combs her hair, what sort of nonsense she cares about, why she’s angry at her father, and what sort of stories people tell about her. The second type of man — and I am in this category — can fall in love with a woman only if he knows next to nothing about her.
For if a lover’s face survives emblazoned on your heart, the world is still your home.
A letter doesn’t communicate by words alone. A letter, just like a book, can be read by smelling it, touching it and fondling it. Thereby, intelligent folk will say, ‘Go on then, read what the letter tells you!’ whereas the dull-witted will say, ‘Go on then, read what he’s written!
The entire world was like a palace with countless rooms whose doors opened into one another. We were able to pass from one room to the next only by exercising our memories and imaginations, but most of us, in our laziness, rarely exercised these capacities, and forever remained in the same room.
The first thing I learned at school was that some people are idiots; the second thing I learned was that some are even worse.
A writer is someone who spends years patiently trying to discover the second being inside him, and the world that makes him who he is: when I speak of writing, what comes first to my mind is not a novel, a poem, or literary tradition, it is a person who shuts himself up in a room, sits down at a table, and alone, turns inward; amid its shadows, he builds a new world with words.
Mankind’s greatest error, the biggest deception of the past thousand years is this: to confuse poverty with stupidity.
…every person has a star, every star has a friend, and for every person carrying a star there is someone else who reflects it, and everyone carries this reflection like a secret confidante in the heart.
When we lose people we love, we should never disturb their souls, whether living or dead. Instead. we should find consolation in an object that reminds you of them, something…I don’t know…even an earring