“morning was in the room and pigeons were gargling on the fire escape.”

“There were hints of sunrise on the rim of the sky, yet it was still dark, and the traces of morning color were like goldfish swimming in ink.”

“Snow-quiet, sleep-silent, only the fun-fire faraway songsinging of children; and the room was blue with cold, colder than the cold of fairytales: lie down my heart among the igloo flowers of snow.”

“In the country, spring is a time of small happenings happening quietly, hyacinth shoots thrusting in a garden, willows burning with a sudden frosty fire of green, lengthening afternoons of long flowing dusk, and midnight rain opening lilac; but in the city there is the fanfare of organ-grinders, and odors, undiluted by winter wind, clog the air; windows long closed go up, and conversation, drifting beyond a room, collides with the jangle of a peddler's bell.”

“Every day I woke up saying "If I die....", not realising how dead I was already, and only a memory tagging along with Delores and Pepe... Wherever they were: I grieved for Pepe, not because I'd lost him (yes, that a little), but because in the end I knew Delores would find him, too: it is easy to escape daylight, but night is inevitable, and dreams are the giant cage.”

“I want to still be me when I wake up one fine morning and have breakfast at Tiffany´s.”

“If you sweep a house, and tend its fires and fill its stove, and there is love in you all the years you are doing this, then you and that house are married, that house is yours.”