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"El mundo es una ilusión y la vida es un sueño, pero, ¿cómo es posible que sea tan nítido ese sueño? ¿Cómo puede ser un sueño si mana la sangre y brotan las lágrimas calientes?"

“Why was I struck by a chill just then? Why does it come back to me so vividly even now, that scene which seemed to tell of a very slow parting, that silence which seemed filled with countless words? As though I were being offered some kind of answer. As though an answer-one that was acutely painful and also a blessing-had already been given to me, and it was up to me to make sense of it.