The truth is an anagram of an anagram.

The belief that time is a linear, directed sequence running from A to B is a modern illusion. In fact, it can also go from B to A, the effect producing the cause.

The wise man does not discriminate; he gathers all the shreds of light, from wherever they may come.

Even today, I frequently meet scientists who, outside their own narrow discipline, are superstitious.

A sure sign of a lunatic is that sooner or later, he brings up the Templars.

For Mallarmé naming an object meant suppressing three-quarters of its poetic pleasure (which consists in the joy of guessing bit by bit - "le suggérer, voilà le rêve!").

We are always remaking history. Our memory is always an interpretive reconstruction of the past, so is perspective.