“The wind languished. The floral curtain ceased flapping. The moonlight streamed through, lighting up her face. It was a young, animated face. At that moment, it touched a string, a peg, deep inside him.”

“Tripes, poumons, coeur de porc, etc., tout cela cuit à la vapeur avec du vin de riz.”

“Mientras pensamos en el presente, se está convirtiendo en pasado.”

“Al fin y al cabo, un hombre es sólo lo que ha decidido hacer o no hacer.”

“El cielo o el infierno están en nuestra cabeza, no en las cosas materiales que poseemos.”

“No son las personas las que hacen las interpretaciones sino las interpretaciones las que hacen a las personas.”

“The patterns overhead shifted so that, had she an imagination prone to hysteria, she could easily convince herself something hid in the curtains above her head. She imagined a face in the shadows and folds of fabric, a face with sad, hollow eyes. The sliver of light shining through a crack in the window curtains disappeared. Shadows deepened and swirled and the face became even more uncannily real.”