A special kind of beauty exists which is born in language, of language, and for language. – 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
Even a minor event in the life of a child is an event of that childs world and thus a world event. – Gaston Bachelard