“Oh, life, life!" Bastidas complained, sipping his drink. "What is life? A little flame at the tip of a candle, exposed to a strong wind.”

“No concibo mi vida más que como un encadenamiento de muertes sucesivas. Arrastro tras de mí los cadáveres de todas mis ilusiones, de todas mis vocaciones perdidas.”

“...we find only one tool, neither created nor invented, but perfect: the hand of man.”

“Happy was she who could believe without seeing, who was at one with the duration and continuity of life.”

“El carácter se forma los domingos en la tarde”

“Life is just a candle, and a dream must give it flame.”

“Oh Maga, en cada mujer parecida a vos se agolpaba como un silencio ensordecedor, una pausa filosa y cristalina que acababa por derrumbarse tristemente, como un paraguas mojado que se cierra.”