The distracted person, too, can form habits.

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.

Every passion borders on the chaotic, but the collector's passion borders on the chaos of memories.

Genuine polemics approach a book as lovingly as a cannibal spices a baby.

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.

How many cities have revealed themselves to me in the marches I undertook in the pursuit of books!