Ana

“—“Instinkt nikogda ne sdayetsya, nikogda ne zabudu, nikogda ne prostyat i nikogda ne umirayet.” —dijo Nikolai, en ruso, y su voz sonó aún más hueca en el cavernoso salón, más imponente que nunca— Significa “el instinto nunca se rinde, nunca olvida, nunca perdona y nunca muere”. Es el lema de nuestra gente. Para que no olvidemos qué y quiénes somos, ni de dónde venimos, ni hacia dónde vamos." -- Nikolai Valinchenko”
― Melisa S. Ramonda, Rasguños en la puerta

“— ¡Cielo Santo, eres un hombre-lobo! ¡Un pequeño hombre-lobo! —sé que dije. -- Johanna Miller”
― Melisa S. Ramonda, Rasguños en la puerta

“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”
― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

“That's the thing about books. They let you travel without moving your feet.”
― Jhumpa Lahiri, The Namesake