Who speaks of conquering? To endure is everything.

The future must enter you long before it happens.

You must think that something is happening upon you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand; it will not let you fall.

At no other time (than autumn) does the earth let itself be inhaled in one smell, the ripe earth; in a smell that is in no way inferior to the smell of the sea, bitter where it borders on taste, and more honeysweet where you feel it touching the first sounds. Containing depth within itself, darkness, something of the grave almost.

The deep parts of my life pour onward, as if the river shores were opening out. I feel closer to what language can't reach. With my senses, as with birds, I climb into the windy heaven... in the ponds broken off from the sky. . .

Your life will still find its own paths from there, and that they may be good, rich, and wide is what I wish for you, more than I can say.

He does not always remain bent over the pages; he often leans back and closes his eyes over a line he has been reading again, and its meaning spreads through his blood.