"In order that the mind may not be taxed, moreover, by the manifold and confused reading of so many such things, and in order to prevent the escape of something valuable that we have read, heard, or discovered through the process of thinking itself, it will be found very useful to entrust to notebooks ... those things which seem noteworthy and striking."

[Commonplace books: Thomas Farnaby, 17th-century]

Our happiness during this final stage of our journey was so unruffled, so calm, that I can no longer recount any of it. The most beautiful works of men are implacably sorrowful. What would a narrative of happiness be like? All that can be described is what prepares it, and then what destroys it.

[On the missing narrative of happiness.: Andre Gide, The Immortalist]

Posted by Alina Stefanescu Coryell on 06.12.2009


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