“And then the storm of shit begins.”

“Only poetry isn't shit.”

“Life is shit, thought Pelletier in astonishment, all of it.”

“Everything that begins as comedy ends as a comic monologue, but we aren't laughing anymore.”

“The University of Santa Teresa was like a cemetery that suddenly begins to think, in vain. It also was like an empty dance club.”

“If it was true that all effort led to a vast abyss, she had two recommendations to begin with, first, not to cheat people, and, second, to treat them properly. Beyond that, there was room for discussion.”

“And yet your shadow isn't following you anymore. At some point your shadow has quietly slipped away. You pretend you don't notice, but you have, you're missing your fucking shadow, though there are plenty of ways to explain it, the angle of the sun, the degree of oblivion induced by the sun beating down on hatless heads, the quantity of alcohol ingested, the movement of something like subterranean tanks of pain, the fear of more contingent things, a disease that begins to become apparent, wounded vanity, the desire just for once in your life to be on time. But the point is, your shadow is lost and you, momentarily, forget it.”