My confidence in the future of literature consists in the knowledge that there are things that only literature can give us, by means specific to it.

Today each of you is the object of the other’s reading, one reads in the other the unwritten story.

If one wanted to depict the whole thing graphically, every episode, with its climax, would require a three-dimensional, or, rather, no model: every experience is unrepeatable. What makes lovemaking and reading resemble each other most is that within both of them times and spaces open, different from measurable time and space.

Memory is redundant: it repeats signs so that the city can begin to exist.

You know that the best you can expect is to avoid the worst.

Traveling, you realize that differences are lost: each city takes to resembling all cities, places exchange their form, order, distances, a shapeless dust cloud invades the continents.

We could say, then, that man is an instrument the world employs to renew its own image constantly.