Book: A goldsmith of words

Our life is just flying dunes, caused by the same gust of wind, destroyed others. Bizarre vanity has been shattered before it had time to form.

In intimacy, we are limited by each other, and the invisible chains become our liberation ties. The limitation is peremptory: it implies exclusivity. To divide means to betray.

We are all fragments of oblivion.

I love the tunnels. They are a symbol of hope once again will light. If on the outside it's not night.

I'm living in my, like in a moving train. I sat down in it against their will, I had no choice, and I don't know the final station. One day, in the distant past, I woke up in my compartment and felt that are in motion. It was exciting, I listened to the sound of the wheels, tripped face oncoming wind and enjoyed the speed at which I swept past the objects. I didn't want the train stopped. And it is in any case did not want to he somewhere stopped forever.

Understanding yourself is a discovery or a creation?

True if that someone is actually interested in me, not his interest in me?

If we finally realized that in all our acts and aspirations, we only quicksand, absorbing and absorbed, what then would become of our vaunted Holy things: pride, regret, shame?

... for much of what we are experiencing, it is crucial that it is not connected with the idea of limbs, but rather with the feeling that there is still a lot of time.

Mindful of death we are paving the way for others. Stop the hostility, apologize for causing offense, to Express sympathy to those to whom cowardice couldn't come any sooner. The things that seem important to us, lose their significance: the taunts, the arrogance, all the troubles that others bring to us in the near future. "Memento"* is an invitation to feel otherwise.

The apparent grim reminder [of death] does not lock us in the snowy monastery courtyard. It opens the way to freedom, awakens us to reality.

"Don't waste your time, draw from him something worthwhile". But that means "worthwhile"? Finally to undertake the implementation of long suppressed desires. Leave the misconception that time is still enough. "Memento"* as a weapon in the struggle against passivity, self-deception and fears that are invariably associated with change. Finally to make the journey, which had long dreamed of, to learn another language, read that book, buy a decoration, to spend the night in a hotel with an international reputation. Not to inflict violence on ourselves.

She looked at me and gave a smile, flown in from distant steppe of a life lived with open eyes.

If others deprive us of its location, respect and recognition, why can't we just tell them: "I do this and don't need, I am self-sufficient? Isn't this a disgusting form of unfreedom that we can't do that? Doesn't that make us slaves of others? What feelings we can use against it, like a dam, barrage as shaft? What should be our inner strength?