Silences can be as different as sounds.
Proust has pointed out that the predisposition to love creates its own objects; is this not also true of fear?
No object is mysterious. The mystery is your eye.
Some ideas, like dandelions in lawns, strike tenaciously: you may pull off the top but the root remains, drives down suckers and may even sprout again.
The novel does not simply recount experience, it adds to experience.
Intimacies between women often go backwards, beginning in revelations and ending in small talk.