By all means be experimental, but let the reader be part of the experiment.

I feel more and more as if time did not exist at all... only various spaces interlocking according to the rules of a higher form of stereometry[the g….

We learn from history as much as a rabbit learns from an experiment that's performed upon it..

We take almost all the decisive steps in our lives as a result of slight inner adjustments of which we are barely conscious..

How far, in any case, must one go back to find the beginning?.

Perhaps we all lose our sense of reality to the precise degree to which we are engrossed in our own work, and perhaps that is why we see in the incre….

Human civilization has been no more than a strange luminescence growing more intense by the hour, of which no one can say when it will begin to wane ….

Men and animals regard each other across a gulf of mutual incomprehension..

Physicists now say there is no such thing as time: everything co-exists. Chronology is entirely artificial and essentially determined by emotion. Con….

We all have appointments with the past..

No one can explain exactly what happens within us when the doors behind which our childhood terrors lurk are flung open..

I believe that the black-and-white photograph, or rather the gray zones in the black-and-white photograph, stand for this territory that is located b….

How happily, said Austerlitz, have I sat over a book in the deepening twilight until I could no longer make out the words and my mind began to wander….

Time, that most abstract of humanity's homes..

The moral backbone of literature is about that whole question of memory. To my mind it seems clear that those who have no memory have the much greate….

In my photographic work I was always especially entranced... by the moment when the shadows of reality, so to speak, emerge out of nothing on the exp….

The more images I gathered from the past, I said, the more unlikely it seemed to me that the past had actually happened in this or that way, for noth….

One has the impression that something is stirring inside [photographs] - it is as if one can hear little cries of despair, gémissements de désespoir.….

This then, I thought, as I looked round about me, is the representation of history. It requires a falsification of perspective. We, the survivors, se….

It is thanks to my evening reading alone that I am still more or less sane..

I suppose it is submerged realities that give to dreams their curious air of hyper-reality. But perhaps there is something else as well, something ne….