Even a minor event in the life of a child is an event of that child's world and thus a world event.

A house that has been experienced is not an inert box. Inhabited space transcends geometrical space.

Happy is the man who knows or even the man who remembers those silent vigils where silence itself was the sign of the communion of souls!

Of course, thanks to the house, a great many of our memories are housed, and if the house is a bit elaborate, if it has a cellar and a garret, nooks and corridors, our memories have refuges that are all the more clearly delineated. All our lives we come back to them in our daydreams. A psychoanalyst should, therefore, turn his attention to this simple localization of our memories. I should like to give the name of topoanalysis to this auxiliary of pyschoanalysis. Topoanalysis, then would be the systematic psychological study of the sites of our intimate lives.

So, like a forgotten fire, a childhood can always flare up again within us.

The reveries of two solitary souls prepare the sweetness of loving.

The repose of sleep refreshes only the body. It rarely sets the soul at rest. The repose of the night does not belong to us. It is not the possession of our being. Sleep opens within us an inn for phantoms. In the morning we must sweep out the shadows.