There sat I, a faded being, under faded leaves.

If something good has lost its way into you, it will make its escape overnight. I know you.

Youth is happy because it has the capacity to see beauty.

Art flies around truth, but with the definite intention of not getting burnt. Its capacity lies in finding in the dark void a place where the beam of light can be intensely caught, without this having been perceptible before.

It is only our conception of time that makes us call the Last Judgement by this name. It is, in fact, a kind of martial law.

Books are a narcotic.

I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us.