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

Counsel woven into the fabric of real life is wisdom.

In the world's structure dream loosens individuality like a bad tooth.

In the end, we get older, we kill everyone who loves us through the worries we give them, through the troubled tenderness we inspire in them, and the fears we ceaselessly cause.

Any translation which intends to perform a transmitting function cannot transmit anything but information-hence, something inessential. This is the hallmark of bad translations.

Literature tells very little to those who understand it.

Language has unmistakably made plain that memory is not an instrument for exploring the past but its theater. It is the medium of past experience, just as the earth is the medium in which dead cities lie buried.