The subconscious is ceaselessly murmuring, and it is by listening to these murmurs that one hears its truth.

In order to dream so far, is it enough to read? Isn't it necessary to write? Write as in our schoolboy past, in those days when, as Bonnoure says, the letters wrote themselves one by one, either in their gibbosity or else in their pretentious elegance? In those days, spelling was a drama, our drama of culture at work in the interior of a word.

It will always be a fact that the woman is the person one idealizes, also the person who wishes his idealization.

To feel most beautifully alive means to be reading something beautiful.

He who ceases to learn cannot adequately teach.

It is a poor reverie which invites a nap. One must even wonder whether, in this "failing asleep", the subconscious itself does not undergo a decline in being.

It is better to live in a state of impermanence than in one of finality.