A word is a bud attempting to become a twig. How can one not dream while writing? It is the pen which dreams. The blank page gives the right to dream.
Ideas are refined and multiplied in the commerce of minds. In their splendor, images effect a very simple communion of souls.
If I were asked to name the chief benefit of the house, I should say: the house shelters day-dreaming, the house protects the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace.
The characteristic of scientific progress is our knowing that we did not know.
Reverie is not a mind vacuum. It is rather the gift of an hour which knows the plenitude of the soul.
The subconscious is ceaselessly murmuring, and it is by listening to these murmurs that one hears the truth.
