... And what am I to do?'Well, that depends. Do you like the girl?'Like her? I don't know. How do you know if...?'It's very simple. Do you look at her furtively and feel like biting her?'Biting her?'On her backside, for example.

I can't die yet, doctor. Not yet. I have things to do. Afterwords I'll have a whole lifetime in which to die.

Some like to believe it's the book that chooses the person.

I was raised among books, making invisible friends in pages that seemed cast from dust and whose smell I carry on my hands to this day.

They had parted as boys, and now life presented one of them with a fugitive and the other with a dying man. Both wondered whether this was due to the cards they'd been dealt or to the way they had played them.

Future could be read much more clearly in the streets, factories, and barracks than in the morning press.