You grow up however, unfortunately, as the college years fly by, into a very exaggerated sense of your own capacities.

If ever the pleasure of one has to be bought by the pain of the other, there better be no trade at all. A trade by which one gains and the other loses is a fraud.

They accepted the pleasures of morning, the bright sun, the whelming sea and sweet air, as a time when play was good and life so full that hope was not necessary and therefore forgotten.

In the haunted shade of the Ateneo, her hands wrote a curse on my skin that was to hound me for years.

Written By Carlos Ruiz Zafón

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