One must live to build one's house, and not build one's house to live in.

One must live to build one's house, and not build one's house to live in.

For in the end, the irreality function functions as well in the face of man as in the face of the cosmos. What would we know of others if we did not imagine things?

If I were asked to name the chief benefit of the house, I should say: the house shelters day-dreaming, the house protects the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace.

A word is a bud attempting to become a twig. How can one not dream while writing? It is the pen which dreams. The blank page gives the right to dream.

What action could bodies and substances have if they were not named in a further increase of dignity where common nouns become proper nouns?

The reverie would not last if it were not nourished by the images of the sweetness of living, by the illusions of happiness.