We Comfort Ourselves By Reliving Memories Of

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.

It Will Always Be A Fact That The Woman Is The Person One Idealizes, Also The Person Who Wishes His Idealization.

How Is It Possible Not To Feel That There Is Communication Between Our Solitude As A Dreamer And The Solitudes Of Childhood? And It Is No Accident That, In A Tranquil Reverie, We Often Follow The Slope Which Returns Us To Our Childhood Solitudes.

Written Language Must Be Considered As A Particular Psychic Reality. The Book Is Permanent; It Is An Object In Your Field Of Vision. It Speaks To You With A Monotonous Authority Which Even Its Author Would Not Have. You Are Fairly Obliged To Read What Is Written.

Ideas Are Invented Only As Correctives To The Past. Through Repeated Rectification Of This Kind One May Hope To Disengage An Idea That Is Valid.