She's kind of a walking poem, she's this perfect beauty. . . but at the same time very deep, very smart.
Life had already given him sufficient reasons for knowing that no defeat was the final one.
For they had lived together long enough to know that love was always love, anytime and anyplace, but it was more solid the closer it came to death.
There is always something left to love.
Time was not passing. . . it was turning in a circle.
When he went through the kitchen he kissed Rebeca on the forehead. "Get those bad thoughts out of your head," he told her. "You're going to be happy.
But when a woman decides to sleep with a man, there is no wall she will not scale, no fortress she will not destroy, no moral consideration she will not ignore at its very root: there is no God worth worrying about.
Architecture is the thoughtful making of space
Facebook? I have no clue about it. MySpace, none of that. I'm the worst.
I've never progressed very far from my days as a smart aleck in middle school.
This does not mean, of course, that we must think of waiting for the age of universal harmony.