“Mrs. Charteris used to say that if we spent our spare time growing flowers instead of talking a lot of nonsense, the world would be a happier place...”

— Reginald Arkell, Old Herbaceous: A Novel of the Garden.

“JAN: No es usted muy justa. Porque también tienen ustedes el otoño.

MARTA: ¿Qué es el otoño?”

”LA MADRE: Dentro de un momento. Sólo un momento. Sí, un momento más. Entretanto, al menos, todavía es posible la felicidad.

MARTA: La felicidad será posible después. No antes.”

— Albert Camus, El malentendido.


“…quería dejar el libro, que se me figuraba tener aún entre las manos, y apagar de un soplo la luz; durante mi sueño no había cesado de reflexionar sobre lo recién leído, pero era muy particular el tono que tomaban esas reflexiones, porque me parecía que yo pasaba a convertirme en el tema de la obra…

Está figuración me duraba aún nos segundos después de haberme despertado: no repugnaba a mi razón, pero gravitaba como unas escamas sobre los ojos sin dejarlos darse cuenta que la vela ya no estaba encendida.”

— Proust, En busca del tiempo perdido

“Find meaning. Distinguish melancholy from sadness. Go out for a walk. It doesn’t have to be a romantic walk in the park, spring at its most spectacular moment, flowers and smells and outstanding poetical imagery smoothly transferring you into another world. It doesn’t have to be a walk during which you’ll have multiple life epiphanies and discover meanings no other brain ever managed to encounter. Do not be afraid of spending quality time by yourself. Find meaning or don’t find meaning but 'steal' some time and give it freely and exclusively to your own self. Opt for privacy and solitude. That doesn’t make you antisocial or cause you to reject the rest of the world. But you need to breathe. And you need to be.”

— Albert Camus, Notebooks 1951-1959.


“Hutte, for instance, used to quote the case of a fellow he called "the beach man." This man had spent forty years of his life on beaches or by the sides of swimming pools, chatting pleasantly with summer visitors and rich idlers. He is to be seen, in his bathing costume, in the corners and backgrounds of thousands of holiday snaps, among groups of happy people, but no one knew his name and why he was there. And no one noticed when one day he vanished from the photographs. I did not dare tell Hutte, but I felt that "the beach man" was myself. Though it would not have surprised him if I had confessed it. Hutte was always saying that, in the end, we were all "beach men" and that "the sand" - I am quoting his own words - keeps the traces of our footsteps only a few moments.“

— Patrick Modiano


“There is nothing to save, now all is lost,
but a tiny core of stillness in the heart
like the eye of a violet.”

— D.H. Lawrence

“To unfold any number of ideas through all the dimensions of time is the great adventure of the writing life. But I had nowhere to write.”

— Deborah Levy, The cost of living.


“Más o menos sé cómo me hice escritor. No sé exactamente por qué. Para existir, ¿realmente necesitaba poner en fila palabras y frases? Para existir, ¿me bastaba con escribir unos cuantos libros? [...] Un día está claro que tendré que empezar a usar palabras para descubrir lo que es real, para descubrir mi realidad.”

— Georges Perec, Especies de espacios.


“One should never expect anyone to reply to one's questions.”

— Patrick Modiano


“...al día siguiente llovió, y fue la primera lluvia el año. Ese año...”


“Las viejas listas están ahí para hacernos sonreír y, tal vez, soltar algún que otro suspiro, pero también estaríamos dispuestos a dar muchas cosas a cambio de revivir de paso el estado de ánimo en que tuvo lugar semejante orgía de lectura.”

— Virginia Woolf, Genio y tinta.

“In the end, we forget the details of our lives that embarrass us or are too painful. We just lie back and allow ourselves to float along calmly over the deep waters, with our eyes closed.”

— Patrick Modiano