The Reverie Would Not Last If It

We Are Never Real Historians, But Always Near Poets, And Our Emotion Is Perhaps Nothing But An Expression Of A Poetry That Was Lost.

A Special Kind Of Beauty Exists Which Is Born In Language, Of Language, And For Language.

Any Work Of Science, No Matter What Its Point Of Departure, Cannot Become Fully Convincing Until It Crosses The Boundary Between The Theoretical And The Experimental: Experimentation Must Give Way To Argument, And Argument Must Have Recourse To Experimentation.

We Comfort Ourselves By Reliving Memories Of Protection. Something Closed Must Retain Our Memories, While Leaving Them Their Original Value As Images. Memories Of The Outside World Will Never Have The Same Tonality As Those Of Home And, By Recalling These Memories, We Add To Our Store Of Dreams; We Are Never Real Historians, But Always Near Poets, And Our Emotion Is Perhaps Nothing But An Expression Of A Poetry That Was Lost.

What Is The Source Of Our First Suffering? It Lies In The Fact That We Hesitated To Speak... It Was Born In The Moment When We Accumulated Silent Things Within Us.