“Lies are everywhere. Even nature herself lies. What is camouflage, for instance, but a lie? The chameleon disguises itself as a leaf in order to deceive a poor butterfly. He lies to it saying, Don't worry, my dear, can't you see I'm just a very green leaf waving in the breeze, and then he jets out his tongue at six… — José Eduardo Agualusa Copy Share
“I know now-I think I probably already knew then- that all lives are exceptional.” — José Eduardo Agualusa Copy Share Image
“O nosso casamento assentava mais no rancor mútuo do que no amor. Nada contra - compreendam-me. Acho que o rancor tende a ser um… — José Eduardo Agualusa Copy Share Image
“If he'd been able to he would have rolled out a rose-petal carpet at her feet. He would have liked to conduct an orchestra… — José Eduardo Agualusa Copy Share Image
“So what do you think, Félix -- it is more important to bear witness to beauty, or to denounce horror?” — José Eduardo Agualusa Copy Share Image
“Happiness is almost always irresponsible. We're happy for those brief moments when we close our eyes.” — José Eduardo Agualusa Copy Share Image
“Reality is painful and imperfect ... That's just the way it is, that's how we distinguish it from dreams. When something seems absolutely lovely we think it can only be a dream, and we pinch ourselves just to be sure we're really not dreaming - if it hurts it's because we're not dreaming. Reality can hurt us, even those moments… — José Eduardo Agualusa Copy Share
“Memory is a landscape watched from the window of a moving train. We watch the dawn light break over the acacia trees, the birds pecking at the morning, as though at a fruit. Further off we see the serenity of a river, and the trees embracing its banks. We see the cattle slowly grazing, a couple running, holding hands, children… — José Eduardo Agualusa Copy Share
“Quantas mulheres teve o professor? Uma. Já te disse. Mentira. Está a mentir-me outra vez. O professor é um mentiroso compulsivo. Sou. Tens toda… — José Eduardo Agualusa Copy Share Image
“Sometimes they don't write what I mean, they just write what I say.” — José Eduardo Agualusa Copy Share Image
“Sometimes, she said, she could recognize a place just by the quality of the light. In Lisbon, the light at the end of spring leans madly over the houses, white and humid, and just a little bit salty. In Rio de Janeiro, in the season that the locals instinctively call ‘autumn’, and that the Europeans insist disdainfully is just a… — José Eduardo Agualusa Copy Share
