Felipe González

“The biggest mistake of the average wage earner is forgetting that no company has or will ever have a human heart.”

“Neofascism dresses up in makeup, glamour, and pure spectacle.”

“…the Moon is there, up above, still, shining, hiding every wound that time has marked her body.”

“She was such a beautiful, delicate apparition that she was on the verge of reciting a verse by Huidobro or Neruda right there, dedicated, by the way, to the little rose.”

“Bad education aren't just a problem for those at the bottom or in the middle; they're also a problem for those at the top, who are certain of their untouchability.”

“The moon is red, sensing the future, it has dressed up for its gala, or the Devil has decorated it.”

“Pedestrians, passersby, civilians, citizens, couples, singles, children of God, move from side to side, miserable in their ignorance.”

“Has he gained weight?" He smiles a pathetic smile, seeing his reflection, sweaty and "almost dead," projected there on the glass of a dismantled display case full of mannequins.”

“Such was his desire that when he mentioned that El Lazarillo was the work of an anonymous author, all he could imagine was how much he would now wish to become that absolute ANON.”

“…the stories already published acquire, over the years, a different value than they had at their genesis: whether for better or for worse.”

“Latin American government decisions, in general terms, discourage the development of the arts, turning artists into true martyrs of a cause, creating a vicious cycle in which ordinary people fail to notice the importance of cultural development, focusing on money as the axis of their lives.”

“He still felt love for someone who had plainly and simply decided to forget him.”

“The beauty of art is in our imperfection.”

“Probably those once accompanied walks had turned out to be such an intense, though brief, experience that, beyond time, his subconscious continued to long for a presence that was no longer there.”

“As if already destined for the seventh circle, a shudder stops him from heading toward the unknown, toward the beautifully fatal.”

“At times, he yearns for the few pockets of darkness that remain on this night so illuminated by that cursed moon, by the despicable stars, by the cursed vehicles, by the hateful city.”

“It must certainly be considered true that once a work leaves our pen, it no longer belongs to us.”

“He still blamed himself for having believed someone who, without a doubt, lied better than he did.”

“Although he still continued to go out walking alone, it was also true that with every outing, in each of them, he used to feel something strange and dark accumulating within him.”