Sometimes telling the truth is not such a good idea.
Silence makes even idiots seem wise for a minute.
Problems are like cockroaches. If you bring them out into the light, they get scared and leave.
Poetry is written with tears, novels with blood, and history with invisible ink.
People with a meagre soul always try to make others feel small too.
People tend to complicate their own lives, as if living weren’t already complicated enough.
Patience is the mother of all virtues. And the godmother of madness.
Over time, loneliness gets inside you and doesn’t go away.
Our body begins to destroy itself from the moment it is born. We are fragile. We’re creatures of passage. All that is left of us are our actions, the good or the evil we do to our fellow humans.
One of the pitfalls of childhood is that one doesn’t have to understand something to feel it. By the time the mind is able to comprehend what has happened, the wounds of the heart are already too deep.
One mustn’t dream of one’s future; one must earn it.
One can only convert a sinner, never a saint.
