Something must always remain that eludes us ... For power to have an object on which it can be exercised, a space in which to stretch out its arms ... As long as I know there exists in the world someone who does tricks only for the love of the trick, as long as I know there is a woman who loves reading for reading's sake, I can convince myself that the world continues ... And every evening I, too, abandon myself to reading, like that distant unknown woman.

There is no language without deceit.

Writing always means hiding something in such a way that it then is discovered.

Melancholy is sadness that has taken on lightness.

At times the mirror increases a thing’s value, at times denies it.

Every time I must find something to do that will look like something a little beyond my capabilities.

What harbor can receive you more securely than a great library?