The breath of the mind is attention 128
Those for whom the world is not enough: saints, conquerors, poets, and all lovers of books.
Through memory we travel against time, through forgetfulness we follow its course.
Everything has its poetry. 94
The paper is patient, but the reader is not.
The soul paints itself in our machines.
Few minds are spacious; few even have an empty place in them or can offer some vacant point. Almost all have narrow capacities and are filled by some knowledge that blocks them up. What a torture to talk to filled heads, that allow nothing from the o...
It is not my words that I polish, but my ideas. 102
