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“Nu caut scuze. Nici reale, nici inventate, de nici un fel. Ce să fac eu cu scuzele? Şi ce e real? Ce e inventat? Trecutul e ca un nor schimbător, are o mulţime de nuanţe şi contururi, acum seamănă cu un cal alb, în galop, pe urmă ia forma unui bivol cenuşiu, după o vreme alege griurile deschise şi pare o cetate năruită, curînd devine negricios şi apropiat de o locomotivă cu aburi, mai tîrziu se întoarce la culoarea laptelui şi imită profilul unei regine. N-am îndoieli şi, din păcate, n-am nici iluzii. Trecutul e capricios şi alunecos ca un peşte. Şi, din cînd în cînd, are exact dimensiunile unei maşini Pobeda, la milimetru, cu toate detaliile de fabricaţie, de la poziţia oglinzilor laterale şi pînă la grosimea ţevii de eşapament.”
― Toate bufnițele
― Toate bufnițele
“The couple's love, long the unrivalled source of high-society conversation, collective rumor, and feminine envy, was transformed into an insignificant particle, caught up, along with millions of other particles, in chaotic motion. It was not a case of Brownian motion. It was a case of war.”
― Little Fingers
― Little Fingers
“In the end, the tenses of the verbs settled into a common groove, the persons of the narrators, first and third (the latter with so many variants and identities), became one, and events thronged toward a day that began uncertainly and remained undecided, with a light gray film covering the sky.”
― Little Fingers
― Little Fingers
“The new politicians resembled hyenas and foxes. In both hemispheres, the people quickly forgot. Compassion and rage shared the fate of autumn flowers, upon which settles hoarfrost: they had faded, withered, then died under the weight of rent, prices, inflation, soap operas and talk shows, family life, victories and defeats in stadiums.”
― Little Fingers
― Little Fingers




