You young people never say anything. And us old folks don’t know how to stop talking.
Coincidences are the scars of fate.
You’re as white as a nun’s buttock. Are you all right?
A man must have vices, expensive ones if possible. Otherwise when he reaches old age he will have nothing to be redeemed from.
It seems that in the advanced stages of stupidity, a lack of ideas is compensated for by an excess of ideologies.
There was no more good or evil in this world than we imagine there to be, either out of greed or out of innocence. Or sometimes madness.
Do you know the best thing about broken hearts? They can only really break once the rest is just scratches.
Army, Marriage, the Church, and Baking: the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse. Fermin Romero de Torres – The Shadow of the Wind.
Literature, at least good literature, is science tempered with the blood of art. Like architecture or music.
The rain was still crashing down, angrily machine-gunning the large windows; it poured through the gutters up in the tower and funneled along the flat roof, sounding like footsteps on the ceiling.
A modern-day Dickens with a popular voice and a genius for storytelling in any genre, Stephen King has written many wonderful books.
Every work of art is aggressive, Isabella. And every artist’s life is a small war or a large one, beginning with oneself and one’s limitations. To achieve anything you must first have ambition and then talent, knowledge, and finally the opportunity.
You don’t win a game by hitting the ball out of the court.
None of us are what we once were.
His soul is in his stories. I once asked him who inspired him to create his characters, and his answer was no one. That all his characters were himself.
People with a meagre soul always try to make others feel small too.
I’ve always thought that anyone who needs to join a herd so badly must be a bit of a sheep himself.
Sometimes I think that Darwin made a mistake and that in fact man is descended from the pig, because eight out of every ten members of the human race are swine, and as crooked as a hog’s tail.
How many lost souls do You need, Lord, to satisfy Your hunger? the hatter asked. God, in His infinite silence, looked at him without blinking.
Death does that: it makes everyone feel sentimental. When we stand in front of a coffin, we all see only what is good or what we want to see.