Presents are made for the pleasure of who gives them, not the merits of who receives them. Carlos Ruiz Zafon More Quotes by Carlos Ruiz Zafon More Quotes From Carlos Ruiz Zafon That afternoon the sky was scattered with black clouds galloping in from the sea and clustering over the city. Flashes of lightening echoed on the horizon and a charged warm wind smelling of dust announced a powerful summer storm. When I reached the station I noticed the first few drops, shiny and heavy, like coins falling from heaven...Night seemed to fall suddenly, interrupted only by the lightning now bursting over the city, leaving a trail of noise and fury. Carlos Ruiz Zafon powerful summer fall There was no more good or evil in this world than we imagine there to be, either out of greed or out of innocence. Or sometimes madness. Carlos Ruiz Zafon greed evil world that as long as we are being remembered, we remain alive. Carlos Ruiz Zafon alive truth long Fools talk, cowards are silent, wise men listen. Carlos Ruiz Zafon coward wise men Not evil. Moronic, which isn't quite the same thing. Evil presupposes a moral decision, intention, and some forethought. A moron or a lout, however, doesn't stop to think or reason. He acts on instinct, like a stable animal, convinced he's doing good, that he's always right, and sanctimoniously proud to go around f***ing up ... anyone he perceives to be different from himself, be it because of skin color, creed, language, nationality, or ... leisure habits. What the world needs is more thoroughly evil people and fewer borderline pigheads. Carlos Ruiz Zafon skin-color animal thinking I was raised among books, making invisible friends in pages that seemed cast from dust and whose smell I carry on my hands to this day. Carlos Ruiz Zafon dust book hands Once, in my father's bookshop, I heard a regular customer say that few things leave a deeper mark on a reader than the first book that finds its way into his heart. Those first images, the echo of words we think we have left behind, accompany us throughout our lives and sculpt a palace in our memory to which, sooner or later—no matter how many books we read, how many worlds we discover, or how much we learn or forget—we will return. Carlos Ruiz Zafon memories father book The Cemetery of Forgotten Books is a metaphor, not just for books but for ideas, for language, for knowledge, for beauty, for all the things that make us human, for collecting memory Carlos Ruiz Zafon memories book ideas The Cemetery of Forgotten Books is like the greatest, most fantastic library you could ever imagine. Its a labyrinth of books with tunnels, bridges, arches, secret sections - and its hidden inside an old palace in the old city of Barcelona. Carlos Ruiz Zafon tunnels bridges book I think you judge yourself too severely, a quality that always distinguishes people of true worth. Carlos Ruiz Zafon judging people thinking . . .sometimes one feels freer speaking to a stranger than to people one knows. Why is that?" “Probably because a stranger sees us the way we are, not as he wishes to think we are. Carlos Ruiz Zafon wish people thinking Paris is the only city in the world where starving to death is still considered an art. Carlos Ruiz Zafon paris cities art Time goes faster the more hollow it is. Lives with no meaning go straight past you, like trains that don’t stop at your station. Carlos Ruiz Zafon faster time past I don't suppose you have many friends. Neither do I. I don't trust people who say they have a lot of friends. It's a sure sign that they don't really know anyone. Carlos Ruiz Zafon lots-of-friends friendship people Deep down we've never been who we think we once were, and we only remember what never happened. Carlos Ruiz Zafon remember life thinking Once you lost all hope, time began to go faster and the senseless days deadened your soul. Carlos Ruiz Zafon soul hope lost There are times and places where not to be anyone is more honourable than to be someone. Carlos Ruiz Zafon Thunder and lightning, it's like the end of the world. Carlos Ruiz Zafon thunder lightning world To truly hate is an art one learns with time. Carlos Ruiz Zafon hate art Do you know what religion is, Martin, my friend? -I can barely remember Lord's Prayer. -A beautiful and well-crafted prayer. Poetry aside, a religion is really a moral code that is expressed through legends,myths, or any type of literary device in order to establish a system of beliefs, values , and rules with which to regulate a culture or a society. Carlos Ruiz Zafon prayer beautiful order
