Time is rhythm: the insect rhythm of a warm humid night, brain ripple, breathing, the drum in my temple—these are our faithful timekeepers; and reason corrects the feverish beat.

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Oh, let me be mawkish for the nonce! I am so tired of being cynical.

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The only real number is one, the rest are mere repetition

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I think it is all a matter of love: the more you love a memory, the stronger and stranger it is.

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Nothing revives the past so completely as a smell that was once associated with it.

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The breaking of a wave cannot explain the whole sea.

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Knowing you have something good to read before bed is among the most pleasurable of sensations.

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Only one letter divides the comic from the cosmic.

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For I do not exist: there exist but the thousands of mirrors that reflect me. With every acquaintance I make, the population of phantoms resembling me increases. Somewhere they live, somewhere they multiply. I alone do not exist.

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Let all of life be an unfettered howl. Like the crowd greeting the gladiator. Don't stop to think, don't interrupt the scream, exhale, release life's rapture.

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