Art Teaches Us To See Into Things.

For Me, It Was Like This: Pronounced Antipathy To Conversing About Matters Of Practical Life, The Future, Dates, Politics. You Are Fixated On The Intellectual Sphere As A Man Possessed May Be Fixated On The Sexual: Under Its Spell, Sucked Into It.

In The Fields With Which We Are Concerned, Knowledge Comes Only In Flashes. The Text Is The Thunder Rolling Long Afterward.

Every Passion Borders On The Chaotic, But The Collector's Passion Borders On The Chaos Of Memories.

All Religions Have Honored The Beggar. For He Proves That In A Matter At The Same Time As Prosaic And Holy, Banal And Regenerative As The Giving Of Alms, Intellect And Morality, Consistency And Principles Are Miserably Inadequate.

The Power Of A Text When It Is Read Is Different From The Power It Has When It Is Copied Out. Only The Copied Text Thus Commands The Soul Of Him Who Is Occupied With It, Whereas The Mere Reader Never Discovers The New Aspects Of His Inner Self That Are Opened By The Text, That Road Cut Through The Interior Jungle Forever Closing Behind It: Because The Reader Follows The Movement Of His Mind In The Free Flight Of Day-dreaming, Whereas The Copier Submits It To Command.