The Art Of Writing Is Mysterious, The

Art Always Opts For The Individual, The Concrete; Art Is Not Platonic.

Time Is The Tiger That Devours Me, But I Am That Tiger.

I Think Of Reading A Book As No Less An Experience Than Travelling Or Falling In Love.

What Will Die With Me When I Die, What Pathetic Or Fragile Form Will The World Lose?

I Came To The Idea Of How Fine It Would Be To Think Of An Encyclopedia Of An Actual World, And Then Of An Encyclopedia, A Very Rigorous One Of Course, Of An Imaginary World, Where Everything Should Be Linked.