That translucent alabaster of our memories.

I find very reasonable the Celtic belief that the souls of our dearly departed are trapped in some inferior being, in an animal, aplant, an inanimate object, indeed lost to us until the day, which for some never arrives, when we find that we pass near the tree, or come to possess the object which is their prison. Then they quiver, call us, and as soon as we have recognized them, the spell is broken. Freed by us, they have vanquished death and return to live with us.

When I went to Venice I found that my dream had become-incredibly, but quite simply-my address.

Always try to keep a patch of sky above your life.

Having a body is in itself the greatest threat to the mind... The body encloses the mind in a fortress; before long the mind is besieged on all sides, and in the end the mind has to give itself up.

If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time.

Only imagination and belief can differentiate from the rest certain objects, certain people, and can create an atmosphere.