Ideas are refined and multiplied in the commerce of minds. In their splendor, images effect a very simple communion of souls. – Gaston Bachelard
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. – Gaston Bachelard
The repose of sleep refreshes only the body. It rarely sets the soul at rest. The repose of the night does not belong to us. It is not the possession of our being. Sleep opens within us an inn for phantoms. In the morning we must sweep out the shadows. – Gaston Bachelard
A special kind of beauty exists which is born in language, of language, and for language. – Gaston Bachelard