Does not everything depend on our interpretation of the silence around us?
It is not love that is blind, but jealousy.
To be the equal of reality you must learn how to ignore it without danger.
The memory of man is as old as misfortune
But I love to feel events overlapping each other, crawling over one another like wet crabs in a basket
Somewhere in the heart of experience there is an order and a coherence which we might purprise if we were attentive enough, loving enough, or patient enough.