We are not given to perceive beauty; we perceive forms of beauty. But the joy they produce is so profound that we think we see it. So we tend to chain ourselves into lateral ghosts of beauty, in mirages.

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The essential paradox in questioning oneself: it is impossible for something to judge itself; no matter how much you want, you will always be subjective. It is illogical to think that we can judge ourselves (or that we can judge others).

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That something is true is nothing more than a sign that we believe it; that when hearing it (or reading it) one feels that it was known, although it has never been known. Enough with that feeling to be true.

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Failure in time.

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To understand a text we must abolish our morality, to criticize it we must create a morality.

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Can't speak with ignorance
because he doesn't understand you.

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There is nothing worse than silence when it is not expected.

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Words, feelings. Actually, nothing. We can think what we want, but what weighs, what is truly important, is the act itself, what happens in itself. There is nothing more than that: everything else is mists in the void.

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Language is required when you want to embrace the world, when you try to represent reality as accurately as possible.

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We don't know anything, and artifacts light up our room. Blinded by them, we let ourselves go through things, like sleepwalkers, thinking nothing more than that light and what it says.

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Be brave in the dull hours, in the silence in front of yourself. Give yourself strength in the dark, when no one can see you.

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The person that death returns to us is not the same. A stain has on her soul, a new mark that transfigures her. And nothing is ever the same with her, as if she had really died.