“Your love for her belongs to you. It's yours. Even if she refuses it, she cannot change it. She isn't benefiting from it, thats all. What you give, Momo, is yours forever. What you keep is lost for all time!"-Monsieur Ibrahim”

“-Ça ne fait rien, disait monsieur Ibrahim. Ton amour pour elle, il est à toi. Il t'appartient. Même si elle le refuse, elle ne peut rien y changer. Elle n'en profite pas, c'est tout. Ce que tu donnes, Momo, c'est à toi pour toujours; ce que tu gardes, c'est perdu à jamais!”

“Enfin, le soufisme n'était pas une maladie, ce qui m'a déjà rassuré un peu, c'était une façon de penser -même s'il y a des façons de penser qui sont aussi des maladies, disait souvent monsieur Ibrahim.”

“She had pronounced the words “New Books” with caution and regret, articulating them reluctantly, as if they were vulgar, even obscene words. As I listened to her, I realised that that it was indeed a commercial term, used to designate an item in fashion, but inappropriate to define a literary work; I also realised that to her eyes I was nothing but an author of ‘New Books’ a supplier in a way. “But novels by Daudet or Maupassant - weren’t they ‘New Books’ when they came out?” I asked.“Time has given them their place”, she replied, as though I had just said something insolent.”

“Guarda Momo. La Senna adora i ponti, è come una donna che va matta per i braccialetti.”

“No, you're mistaken. Not 'What filthy weather' but 'It's a fine rainy day.”

“You only really discover a masterpiece after a third or fourth reading, don’t you agree?”“And how can you tell something is a masterpiece?”“I don’t skip over the same passages”.”