Maybe happiness too is a metaphor invented on a day of boredom

Everything one invents is true, you may be perfectly sure of that. Poetry is as precise as geometry.

What an awful thing life is, isn’t it? It’s like soup with lots of hairs floating on the surface. You have to eat it nevertheless.

And so I will take back up my poor life, so plain and so tranquil, where phrases are adventures and the only flowers I gather aremetaphors.

Stupidity lies in wanting to draw conclusions.

One day, I shall explode like an artillery shell and all my bits will be found on the writing table.

The citadel of Machaerus rose east of the Dead Sea on a basalt Peak shaped like a cone, girdled by four deep valleys; two about its sides, one in front, and the fourth behind.