Art is the human disposition of sensible or intelligible matter for an esthetic end.

Our dreams prove that to imagine - to dream about things that have not happened - is among mankind's deepest needs.

Such are the Splendors and Miseries of memory: it is proud of its ability to keep truthful track of the logical sequence of past events; but when it comes to how we experienced them at the time, memory feels no obligation to truth.

People are always shouting they want to create a better future. It's not true. The future is an apathetic void of no interest to anyone.

The novelist teaches the reader to comprehend the world as a question.

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

Once the writer in every individual comes to life (and that time is not far off), we are in for an age of universal deafness and lack of understanding.