"For what is love if one loves a woman without knowing her? Just a decision to love? Or even an imitation? The question concerns us all: If, from our… - Milan Kundera

In my opinion, Jan is mistaken in thinking that the border is a line that crosses a man’s life at a specific point, that it marks a break in time, a particular second on the clock of a human life. No. I am certain, on the contrary, that the border is constantly with us, irrespective of time and our stage of life, that it is omnipresent, even though circumstances might make it more or less visible.

The woman Jan had loved most was right to say she held onto life by a spider thread. It takes so little, a tiny puff of air, for things to shift imperceptibly, and whatever it was that a man was ready to lay down his life for a few seconds earlier seems suddenly to be sheer nonsense.

Because to live in a world in which no one is forgiven, where all are irredeemable, is the same as living in hell.

İnsan hiçbir şeyi, hiçbir kimseyi ciddiye alamayınca yaşamak ne kadar da hüzün verici!