The distracted person, too, can form habits.

It is only for those without hope that hope is given.

History breaks down into images, not into stories.

Like ultraviolet rays memory shows to each man in the book of life a script that invisibly and prophetically glosses the text.

In the fields with which we are concerned, knowledge comes only in flashes. The text is the thunder rolling long afterward.

Each morning the day lies like a fresh shirt on our bed; this incomparably fine, incomparably tightly woven tissue of pure prediction fits us perfectly. The happiness of the next twenty-four hours depends on our ability, on waking, to pick it up.

The camera introduces us to unconscious optics as does psychoanalysis to unconscious impulses.