Riguelis

“Hay algo sano en sentir que se está metido en un estercolero. Lo enfermizo es lo contrario: seguir como si nada, hacer planes, casarse, tener hijos, querer triunfar. Hay una alta dosis de insensibilidad en la gran masa anónima.”
― Mario Mendoza, Akelarre

“But any time Kheim met the eye of any of his men, he saw the pain there. He saw also that they blamed him for her death. So he was happy to leave Nanking and travel with a gang of officials up the Grand Canal to Beijing. He knew that his sailors would scatter up and down the coast, go their ways so they wouldn't have to see each other and remember; only after years had passed would they want to meet, so that they could remember the pain when it had become so distant and faint that they actually wanted it back, just to feel again they had done all those things, that life had held all those things.”
― Kim Stanley Robinson, The Years of Rice and Salt

“What I find interesting is that of all these religious figures of ancient times, only the Buddha did not claim to be a god, or to be talking to God. The others all claim to be God, or God’s son, or to be taking dictation from God. Whereas the Buddha simply said, there is no God. The universe itself is holy, human beings are sacred, all the sentient beings are sacred and can work to be enlightened, and one must only pay attention to daily life, the middle way, and give thanks and worship in daily action. It is the most unassuming of religions. Not even a religion, but more a way to live.”
― Kim Stanley Robinson, The Years of Rice and Salt

“Decía mi abuelo que cada palabra tiene su dueño y que una palabra justa hace temblar la tierra. La palabra es un rayo, un tigre, un vendaval, decía el viejo mirándome con rabia mientras se servía alcohol de farmacia, pero ay del que usa la palabra a la ligera. ¿Sabés qué pasa con los mentirosos?, decía. [...] ¿Sabés lo que le pasa al que miente?, insistía el abuelo, esquelético, amenazándome con el bastón: la palabra lo abandona, y al que se queda vacío cualquiera lo puede matar.”
― Liliana Colanzi, Nuestro mundo muerto