a man possessed with peace is always smiling

Memory does not make films, it makes photographs.

But what had happened, had happened, and it was no longer possible to right anything.

And there lies the horror: the past we remember is devoid of time. Impossible to reexperience a love the way we reread a book or resee a film.

Mysticism and exaggeration go together. A mystic must not fear ridicule if he is to push all the way to the limits of humility or the limits of delight.

For the body is temporal and thought is eternal and the shimmering essence of flame is an image of thought.

Metaphors are dangerous. Love begins with a metaphor. Which is to say, love begins at the point when a woman enters her first word into our poetic memory.