If you want to know how much darkness there is around you, you must sharpen your eyes, peering at the faint lights in the distance.

One reads alone, even in another's presence.

…we can not love or think except in fragments of time each of which goes along its own trajectory and immediately disappears.

This is what I mean when I say I would like to swim against the stream of time: I would like to erase the consequences of certain events and restore an initial condition. But every moment of my life brings with it an accumulation of new facts, and each of these new facts bring with it consequences; so the more I seek to return to the zero moment from which I set out, the further I move away from it. . . .

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.

Nobody these days holds the written word in such high esteem as police states do.

The catalogue of forms is endless: until every shape has found its city, new cities will continue to be born. When the forms exhaust their variety and come apart, the end of cities begins.