On its own, having escaped my grasp, the spool I had loosed was unwinding.

- Julien Gracq

And what can still delight an inert stone except to become, once more, the bed of a raging torrent?

- Julien Gracq

Blood had long since ceased to beat from one end to the other, but one could sense, from passages marked with fresher traces of wheels and hooves, th…

- Julien Gracq

Floating high on the waters of catastrophe

- Julien Gracq

A history of literature, unlike history as such, ought to list only victories, for its defeats are no victory for anyone.

- Julien Gracq