To the lover the loved one always appears as solitary.

Not to find one’s way around a city does not mean much. But to lose one’s way in a city, as one loses one’s way in a forest, requires some schooling.

The destructive character lives from the feeling, not that life is worth living, but that suicide is not worth the trouble.

Boredom is the dream bird that hatches the egg of experience. A rustling in the leaves drives him away.

In the convulsions of the commodity economy, we begin to recognize the monuments of the bourgeoisie as ruins even before they have crumbled.

You could tell a lot about a man by the books he keeps - his tastes, his interest, his habits.

If sleep is the apogee of physical relaxation, boredom is the apogee of mental relaxation. Boredom is the dream bird that hatches the egg of experience.