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Carlos Ruiz Zafon

"The only thing I can recall is that it rained all day and all night, and that when I asked my father whether heaven was crying, he couldn't bring himself to reply. Six years later my mother's absence remained in the air around us, a deafening silence that I had not yet learned to stifle with words."

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"The only thing I can recall is that it rained all day and all night, and that when I asked my father whether heaven was crying, he couldn't bring himself to reply. Six years later my mother's absence remained in the air around us, a deafening silence that I had not yet learned to stifle with words."

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Amber Hurdle

"Why do they lie? she asked herself aloud. "They say time makes losing someone you loved easier to deal with, but it only makes it worse."

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Amber Hurdle

"The loss of my child broke my spirit."

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Amber Hurdle

"He did touch people's lives, the lives of strangers, in an entirely unanticipated way. It was they who really mourned him - or what they thought was him - with a grief that was no less sharp for not being intimate with its object."

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Amber Hurdle

"And yet... you wouldn't want it to stop hurting... you wouldn't want to forget your little mother even if you could."

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Amber Hurdle

"To re-live these characters would be wonderful, because I know when the show ends it will be huge mourning process."

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Amber Hurdle

"It was a hurting tune, resigned, a cry of heartache for all in the world that fell apart. As ash rose black against the brilliant sky, Fire's fiddle cried out for the dead, and for the living who stay behind to say goodbye."

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Amber Hurdle

"Mourning is not forgetting... It is an undoing. Every minute tie has to be untied and something permanent and valuable recovered and assimilated from the dust."

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Amber Hurdle

"The death of a beloved is an amputation."

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Amber Hurdle

"I turned and faced the Olympians."We need a shroud," I announced, my voice cracking. "A shroud for the son of Hermes."

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Amber Hurdle

"We need a shroud. A shroud for the son of Hermes."

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Carlos Ruiz Zafon
"If you don't trust a novelist, who are you going to trust?"
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"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."
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Carlos Ruiz Zafon
"As I walked, I ran my fingers along the spines of hundreds of books. I let myself be imbued with the smell, with the light that filtered through the cracks or from the glass lanterns embedded in the wooden structure, floating among mirrors and shadows."
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Carlos Ruiz Zafon
"Do you think it's dirty money? All money is dirty. If it were clean nobody would want it."
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Carlos Ruiz Zafon
"Barcelona is a very old city in which you can feel the weight of history it is haunted by history. You cannot walk around it without perceiving it."
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Carlos Ruiz Zafon
"Nations never see themselves clearly in the mirror, much less when war preys on their minds."
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"Max had once read in one of his father's books that some childhood images become engraved in the mind like photographs, like scenes you can return to again and again and will always remember, no matter how much time goes by."
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Carlos Ruiz Zafon
"The city was asleep, and the bookshop felt like a boat adrift in a sea of silence and shadows."
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Carlos Ruiz Zafon
"Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul. The soul of the person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it. Every time a book changes hands, every time someone runs his eyes down its pages, its spirit grows and strengthens."
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Carlos Ruiz Zafon
"As I walked in the dark through the tunnels and tunnels of books, I could not help being overcome by a sense of sadness. I couldn't help thinking that if I, by pure chance, had found a whole universe in a single unknown book, buried in that endless necropolis, tens of thousands more would remain unexplored, forgotten forever. I felt myself surrounded by millions of abandoned pages, by worlds and souls without an owner sinking in an ocean of darkness, while the world that throbbed outside the library seemed to be losing its memory, day after day, unknowingly, feeling all the wiser the more it forgot."
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