The original is unfaithful to the translation.

As the end approaches, there are no longer any images from memory - there are only words.

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

The future has no other reality than as present hope, and the past is no more than present memory.

Im merely a dreamer, and then a writer, and my happiest moments are when I'm a reader.

I hardly know what I'm going to write - an article, a story, a poem in free verse - or in some regular form. I only know that when I have the first sentence. And when the first sentence makes a kind of pattern, then I find out the kind of rhythm I'm looking for.

In truth, the Library includes all verbal structures, all variations permitted by the twenty-five orthographical symbols, but not a single example of absolute nonsense.