What are the girls thinking of? At least half are nostalgic for death, and for a temple, and for all of those clothes.

His eyes stayed open imperiously. No one could close his eyelids. The room smoked of grief.

The wind wrinkled the dark lake and my thoughts as it swept on the clouds, chopped them up with its hatchet; between them you could just glimpse the Last Judgement, finding each of us guilty of nothing.

Once when I was eight years old my grandmother asked me, what will you do when you grow up? And I answered, I want to die. I want to die when I grow up. I want to die soon. And I think my sister really liked that answer.

Inside, a mother superior, ethereal, delicate, who took me under her wing. She caressed me with her slender, soft hands, she sat next to me as if I were a friend. One day she disappeared. In her place arrived a buxom Swiss from Canton Uri. It's common knowledge that a new leader will hate the predecessors' favourites. A boarding school is like a harem.

I still thought that to get something you had to go straight for your goal whereas it is only distractions, uncertainty, distance that bring us closer to our targets, and then it is the targets which strike us.

Sui prati scoscesi volavano bassi i corvi, deformi, va na gloriosi, crudeli. Li avevi paragonati alla nostra adolescenza, mentre cercavano, nella terra intorno al collegio, dove mettere gli artigli.

Hemos imaginado el mundo. ¿Qué otra cosa puede imaginarse si no es la propia muerte? El sonido de una campana y todo ha terminado.

Cuando se está allí dentro, una imagina cosas grandiosas sobre el mundo, y cuando sale, a veces desearía volver a oír el sonido de la campana.

La vida para mí se hacía demasiado larga. La literatura, por sí sola, no me distraía.