Quotes from Carlos Ruiz Zafon

Cómo está el mundo —exclamó el hombre ante las noticias de su periódico—. Se conoce que, en las fases más avanzadas del cretinismo, la falta de ideas se compensa con el exceso de ideologías.

No sé qué me ha pasado. No te ofendas, pero a veces una se siente más libre de hablarle a un extraño que a la gente que conoce. ¿Por qué será? Me encogí de hombros. -Probablemente porque un extraño nos ve como somos, no como quiere creer que somos.

And so, under cover of midnight, a couple of Sugus, and the spell of memories that were threatening to disappear in the mist of time, Fermin began to connect the threads that would weave the end and the beginning of our story....

Nos meus sonhos de colegial seríamos sempre dois fugitivos a cavalo na lombada de um livro,dispostos a escaparem-se através de mundos de ficção e sonhos em segunda mão.

existence that we cannot explain by any other means, be it the moral void we perceive in the universe, the certainty of death, the mystery of the origin of things, the meaning of our lives, or the absence of meaning. These are basic and extremely simple aspects of existence, but our limitations prevent us from responding in an unequivocal way and for that reason we generate an emotional response, as a defense mechanism. It's pure biology.

we've never been who we think we once were, and we only remember what never happened .

Someone once said that the moment you stop to think about whether you love someone, you've already stopped loving that person forever

it occurred to me that perhaps the papier-mâché world that I accepted as real was only a stage setting

He locked his deeper feelings in the prison of his heart for months on end, until they became hopelessly embittered.

She laughed nervously. "I don't know what came over me. Don't be offended, but sometimes one feels freer speaking to a stranger than to people one knows. Why is that?" I shrugged. "Probably because a stranger sees us the way we are, not as he wishes to think we are.

playing the role of princess in her own fairy tale.

Îmi spui mie È™i eu o s? te duc într-un loc secret unde c?rÈ›ile nu mor niciodat? È™i unde nimeni nu le poate distruge.

Exist? lucruri care nu se pot vedea decât pe întuneric.

Julián me había dicho alguna vez que un relato era una carta que el autor se escribe a sí mismo para contarse cosas que de otro modo no podría averiguar.

PatrzÄ…c, jak beztrosko bawiÄ… siÄ™ w wodzie, Max ju? wiedziaÅ', przypuszczalnie jeszcze zanim oni oboje zaczÄ™li to sobie uÅ›wiadamia?, ?e nawiÄ…zuje siÄ™ miÄ™dzy nimi wi??, która niczym Å›lepe przeznaczenie zÅ'Ä…czy ich tego lata.

Julián thought he smiled the way people smile who have no friends—with gratitude.

Nos miramos en la penumbra buscando palabras que no existían.

The strategy of gaining entry is not unlike seduction: if you ask for permission, you've lost before you've begun.

Te romperías el corazón a ti misma —pensó—. Si lo tuvieras.»

this chorus of simians we call humanity.

People who have no life always have to stick their nose in the life of others

De todas las cosas que escribió Julian, la que siempre he sentido más cercana es que mientras se nos recuerda, seguimos vivos.

Fumul albastru al È›ig?rii îi înv?luia chipul. Buzele îi str?luceau stacojii, umede, sângerând urme pe filtrul pe care-l È›inea între ar?t?tor ÅŸi inelar.

the echo of words we think we have left behind