Yes, the world may aspire to vacuousness, lost souls mourn beauty, insignificance surrounds us. Then let us drink a cup of tea. Silence descends, one hears the wind outside, autumn leaves rustle and take flight, the cat sleeps in a warm pool of light. And, with each swallow, time is sublimed.

boredom was born on a day of uniformity.

Melancholy overwhelms me at supersonic speed.

Levin delights in the forgetfulness that movement brings, where the pleasure of doing is marvellously foreign to the striving of the will.

Don't let the cat out or the concierge in: this is the first principle of socialist ladies.

A man who farts in bed . . . is a man who loves life.

... they have never seen you ... I would recognize you anywhere.