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One is never wholly conscious of the greed hidden in one's heart until one hears the sweet sound of silver.

Carlos Ruiz Zafon

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Carlos Ruiz Zafon
Age: 55 †
Born: 1964
Born: September 25
Died: 2020
Died: June 19
Novelist
Publicist
Screenwriter
Barcelona
Spain
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
Heart
Hears
Never
Wholly
Silver
Hidden
Greed
Conscious
Sweet
Sound

More quotes by Carlos Ruiz Zafon

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Everything is a tale, Martin. What we believe, what we know, what we remember, even what we dream. Everything is a story, a narrative, a sequence of events with characters communicating an emotional content. We only accept as true what can be narrated.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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He didn't know whether we created God in our own image or whether God created us without quite knowing what he was doing. He believed that God, or whatever brought us here, lives in each of our deeds, in each of our words, and manifests himself in all those things that show us to be more than mere figures of clay.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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Are you not tempted to create a story for which men and women would live and die, for which they would be capable of killing and allowing them to be killed, of sacrificing and condemning themselves, of handling over their souls?
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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Silence makes idiots seem wise even for a minute.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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Bea says that the art of reading is slowly dying, that it's an intimate ritual, that a book is a mirror that offers us only what we already carry inside us, that when we read, we do it with all our heart and mind, and great readers are becoming more scarce by the day.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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I still remember the day my father took me to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books for the first time.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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I don't suppose you have many friends. Neither do I. I don't trust people who say they have a lot of friends. It's a sure sign that they don't really know anyone.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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Write, he said. I'll write to you as soon as I get there, answered Julian. No. Not to me. Write books. Not letters. Write them for me, for Penelope.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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My wife and I were never happy here. Spain can be narrow-minded, and provincial. In LA you don't have to justify yourself. I think I will leave here again soon and move back there.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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Paris is the only city in the world where starving to death is still considered an art.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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Literature, at least good literature, is science tempered with the blood of art. Like architecture or music.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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Men are like chestnuts they sell in the street: they're all hot and they all smell good when you buy them, but when you take them out of the paper cone you realise that most of them are rotten inside.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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After a while it occurred to me that between the covers of each of those books lay a boundless universe waiting to be discovered while beyond those walls, in the outside world, people allowed life to pass by in afternoons of football and radio soaps, content to do little more than gaze at their navels.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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This cures everything except stupidity, which is an epidemic on the rise.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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A good father. A man with a head, a heart, and a soul. A man capable of listening, of leading and respecting a child, and not of drowning his own defects in him. Someone whom a child will not only love because he's his father, but will also admire for the person he is. Someone he would want to grow up to resemble.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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My childhood was surrounded by books and writing. From a very early age I was fascinated by storytelling, by the printed word, by language, by ideas. So I would seek them out.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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Never trust girls who let themselves be touched right away. But even less those who need a priest for approval.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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I like to believe that storytelling transcends age limitations.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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I became a writer, a teller of tales, because otherwise I would have died... or worse.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon
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In my schoolboy reveries, we were always two fugitives riding on the spine of a book, eager to escape into worlds of fiction and secondhand dreams.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon