Carlos Ruiz Zafon
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
Carlos Ruiz Zafón Spanish: is a Spanish novelist...
NationalitySpanish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth25 September 1964
CountrySpain
past night stories
In Los Angeles you get the sense sometimes that there's a mysterious patrol at night: when the streets are empty and everyone's asleep, they go erasing the past. It's like a bad Ray Bradbury story.
time past faster
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.
memories book past
He was a very private person, and sometimes it seemed to me that he was no longer interested in the world or in other people... I got the feeling that Julián was living in the past, locked in his memories. Julián lived within himself, for his books and inside them - a comfortable prison of his own design." "You say this as if you envied him." "There are worse prisons than words.
book past destiny
Delving into the past had unveiled a cruel lesson - that in the book of life it is perhaps best not to turn back pages; it was a path on which, whatever direction we took, we'd never be able to choose our own destiny.
entire rains size spend thunder time year
I spend a lot of time in L.A., and when it rains there you get the entire rainfall for the year in two days, raindrops the size of mangoes. And in Barcelona, the Mediterranean storms come up from the sea, thunder and lightning; it's like the end of the world.
memories deceptive
Few things are more deceptive than memories.
paper faces pieces
It's curious how easy it is to tell a piece of paper what you don't dare say to someone's face.
blood resentment absurd
Resentment slowly poisoned my blood and I laughed at myself and my absurd hopes.
compassion sometimes circumstances
Sometimes, in difficult circumstances, one can confuse compassion with love.
lying reality air
Life had taught her that we all require big and small lies in order to survive, just as much as we need air. She used to say that if during one single day, from dawn to dusk, we could see the naked reality of the world, and of ourselves, we would either take our own lives or lose our minds.
children growing-up father
A good father. A man with a head, a heart, and a soul. A man capable of listening, of leading and respecting a child, and not of drowning his own defects in him. Someone whom a child will not only love because he's his father, but will also admire for the person he is. Someone he would want to grow up to resemble.
silence soul needs
How many lost souls do You need, Lord, to satisfy Your hunger? the hatter asked. God, in His infinite silence, looked at him without blinking.
reading imagination soul
I had never known the pleasure of reading, of exploring the recesses of the soul, of letting myself be carried away by imagination, beauty, and the mystery of fiction and language. For me all those things were born with that novel.
memories war convince-us
Nothing feeds forgetfulness better than war.... We all keep quiet and they try to convince us that what we've seen, what we've done, what we've learned about ourselves and about others, is an illusion, a passing nightmare. Wars have no memory, and nobody has the courage to understand them until there are no voices left to tell what happened, until the moment comes when we no longer recognize them and they return, with another face and another name, to devour what they left behind.