To Bless Thine Enemy Is A Good

I Owe The Discovery Of Uqbar To The Conjunction Of A Mirror And An Encyclopedia.

I Had Always Thought Of Paradise / In Form And Image As A Library.

Censorship Is The Mother Of Metaphor.

A Labyrinth Of Symbols... An Invisible Labyrinth Of Time.

I Know Of One Semibarbarous Zone Whose Librarians Repudiate The "vain And Superstitious Habit" Of Trying To Find Sense In Books, Equating Such A Quest With Attempting To Find Meaning In Dreams Or In The Chaotic Lines On The Palms Of One's Hand.