What is life if not the shadow of a fleeting dream?

Umberto Eco, 1932- 2016

Inventing the Enemy, opens a new windowConfessions of A Young Novelist, opens a new windowTurning Back the Clock, opens a new windowNumero Zero, opens a new windowConfessions of A Young Novelist, opens a new windowFoucault's Pendulum, opens a new windowThe Prague Cemetery, opens a new windowThe Name of the Rose, opens a new windowThe Book of Legendary Lands, opens a new windowThe Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana, opens a new windowOn Literature, opens a new windowBaudolino, opens a new windowArt and Beauty in the Middle Ages, opens a new windowKant and the Platypus, opens a new windowThe Island of the Day Before, opens a new windowHow to Travel With A Salmon & Other Essays, opens a new windowFive Moral Pieces, opens a new windowThis Is Not the End of the Book, opens a new windowOn Ugliness, opens a new windowOn Beauty, opens a new window

"Thus I rediscovered what writers have always known (and have told us again and again): books always speak of other books, and every story tells a story that has already been told."

― Umberto Eco, Postscript to the Name of the Rose

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