I was in a maze. No matter which way I turned, it was the wrong way.

It comes down to a question of attention: it's difficult to use the Net distractedly, unlike the television or the radio.

Love is wiser than wisdom.

My maternal grandmother - she was a compulsive reader. She had only been through five grades of elementary school, but she was a member of the municipal library, and she brought home two or three books a week for me. They could be dime novels or Balzac.

For what I saw at the abbey then (and will now recount) caused me to think that often inquisitors create heretics. And not only in the sense that they imagine heretics where these do not exist, but also that inquisitors repress the heretical putrefaction so vehemently that many are driven to share in it, in their hatred for the judges. Truly, a circle conceived by the Devil. God preserve us.

We live for books.

The truth is a young maiden as modest as she is beautiful, and therefore she is always seen cloaked.