We have shared out, like thieves, the amazing treasures of days and nights.
We are our memory, we are that chimerical museum of shifting shapes, that pile of broken mirrors.
I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library.
Everything touches everything.
Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
It may be that universal history is the history of the different intonations given a handful of metaphors.