Some commit slow suicide with the sweet poison of their memories.

Husbands are the leftovers of a stew called love –she thought—, and with hair on their faces.

Being in love is to be half-cooked inside an eggshell called love.

Brevity is a sublime talent.

The most heinous crime is to disappoint those who trust in you

The Providence granted me with the ability to think, and thinking unveiled to me that, sadly, there was no providence.