I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library.

Then I reflect that all things happen, happen to one, precisely now. Century follows century, and things happen only in the present. There are countless men in the air, on land and at sea, and all that really happens happens to me.

It only takes two facing mirrors to build a labyrinth.

Reality is partial to symmetry and slight anachronisms

I have no personal system of philosophy. I never attempt to do that. I am merely a man of letters.

I don't think I can really believe in doomsday; I could hardly believe in rewards and punishments, in heaven or hell. As I wrote down in one of my sonnets - I seem to be always plagiarizing, imitating myself or somebody else for that matter - I think I am quite unworthy of heaven or of hell, and even of immortality.

The time for your labor has been granted.