To Be Happy Is To Be Able

How Many Cities Have Revealed Themselves To Me In The Marches I Undertook In The Pursuit Of Books!

He Who Seeks To Approach His Own Buried Past Must Conduct Himself Like A Man Digging... This Confers The Tone And Bearing Of Genuine Reminiscences. He Must Not Be Afraid To Return Again And Again To The Same Matter; To Scatter It As One Scatters Earth, To Turn It Over As One Turns Over Soil.

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

Not To Find One's Way In A City May Well Be Uninteresting And Banal. It Requires Ignorance - Nothing More. But To Lose Oneself In A City - As One Loses Oneself In A Forest - That Calls For A Quite Different Schooling. Then, Signboard And Street Names, Passers-by, Roofs, Kiosks, Or Bars Must Speak To The Wanderer Like A Cracking Twig Under His Feet In The Forest.

Boredom Is The Dream Bird That Hatches The Egg Of Experience. A Rustling In The Leaves Drives Him Away.