Now, The Old Man Happened To Be

Who Are We, Who Is Each One Of Us, If Not A Combination Of Experiences, Information, Books We Have Read, Things Imagined? Each Life Is An Encyclopedia, A Library, An Inventory Of Objects, A Series Of Styles, And Everything Can Be Constantly Shuffled And Reordered In Every Way Conceivable.

Don't Ask Where The Rest Of This Book Is!" It Is A Shrill Cry That Comes From An Undefined Spot Among The Shelves. "all Books Continue In The Beyond.

A Human Being Becomes Human Not Through The Casual Convergence Of Certain Biological Conditions, But Through An Act Of Will And Love On The Part Of Other People.

I Do Not Have Any Political Commitments Anymore. I'm Politically A Total Agnostic; I'm One Of The Few Writers In Italy Who Refuses To Be Identified With A Specific Political Party.

So Began Their Love, The Boy Happy And Amazed, She Happy And Not Surprised At All (nothing Happens By Chance To Girls). It Was The Love So Long Awaited By Cosimo And Which Had Now Inexplicably Arrived, And So Lovely That He Could Not Imagine How He Had Even Thought It Lovely Before. And The Thing Newest To Him Was That It Was So Simple, And The Boy At That Moment Thought It Must Be Like That Always.