Time forks perpetually toward innumerable futures.

It also occurred to him that throughout history, humankind has told two stories: the story of a lost ship sailing the Mediterranean seas in quest of a beloved isle, and the story of a god who allows himself to be crucified on Golgotha.

What man of us has never felt, walking through the twilight or writing down a date from his past, that he has lost something infinite?

Art is endless like a river flowing, passing, yet remaining.

It seemed incredible that this day, a day without warnings or omens, might be that of my implacable death.

My books standing there on the shelf do not know that I have written them.

While we are asleep in this world, we are awake in another one