All of them, all those idiots who force their brains and don't know when to stop. - Cesare Pavese

The act—the act—must not be a revenge. It must be a calm, weary renunciation, a closing of accounts, a private, rhythmic deed. The last remark.

When a man mourns for someone who has played him false, it is not for love of her, but for his own humiliation at not having deserved her trust.

Nuto, who had never really gone away, still wanted to understand the world and change it, and upset the cycle of the seasons. Or perhaps he didn't, and still believed only in the moon. But I, who didn't believe in the moon, knew that when all was said and done only the seasons matter and they are in your bones and they nurtured you when you were a boy.