She went by the name of Belisa Crepusculario, not because she'd been born with it or baptized it, but because she herself had searched until she foun… - Isabel Allende

La besó en la mejillla lo más cerca posible de la boca, deseando con pasión permanecer a su lado eternamente para preservarla de las sombras. Olía a yerbas y tenía la piel fría. Supo que amarla era su destino inexorable.

There are all kinds of stories. Some are born with the telling, their substance is language, and before someone puts them into words they are but a hint of an emotion, a caprice of mind, an image, or an intangible recollection. Others are manifest whole, like an apple, and can be repeated infinitely without risk of altering their meaning. Some are taken from reality and processed through inspiration, while others rise up from an instant of inspiration and become real after being told. And then there are secret stories that remain hidden in the shadows of the mind, they are like living organisms, they grow roots and tentacles, they become covered with excrescences and parasites, and with time are transformed into the matter of nightmares. To exorcise the demons of memory, it is sometimes necessary to tell them as a story. (beginning of "Interminable Life")

She felt that everything was made of glass, as fragile as a sigh