“The subconscious is ceaselessly murmuring, and it is by listening to these murmurs that one hears its truth.”

Through imagination, thanks to the subtleties of the irreality function, we re-enter the world of confidence, the world of the confident being, which is the proper world for reverie.

A house that has been experienced is not an inert box. Inhabited space transcends geometrical space.

Our house is our corner of the world.

The reflected world is the conquest of calm.

Ideas are invented only as correctives to the past. Through repeated rectification of this kind one may hope to disengage an idea that is valid.

When the image is new, the world is new.

The characteristic of scientific progress is our knowing that we did not know.

Our whole childhood remains to be reimagined. In reimagining it, we have the possibility of recovering it in the very life of our reveries as a solitary child.

To verify images kills them, and it is always more enriching to imagine than to experience.

The reveries of two solitary souls prepare the sweetness of loving.

Cosmic reveries separate us from project reveries. They situate us in a world and not in a society. The cosmic reverie possesses a sort of stability or tranquility. It helps us escape time. It is a state.

We comfort ourselves by reliving memories of protection.

The night dreamer cannot articulate a cogito. The night dream is a dream without a dreamer.

One must live to build one’s house, and not build one’s house to live in.

The blank page gives us the right to dream.

To disappear into deep water or to disappear toward a far horizon, to become part of depth of infinity, such is the destiny of man that finds its image in the destiny of water.

I hope you summon your courage and you invite your demons to tea, and you learn to listen to all their stories.

I listen to Frank Sinatra before my fight a lot, and I also listen to Orisha music, so both of those, I need, it’s weird. It’s a weird combination.

Do you want to see what human eyes have never seen? Look at the moon. Do you want to hear what ears have never heard? Listen to the bird’s cry. Do you want to touch what hands have never touched? Touch the earth. Verily I say that God is about to create the world.

The art of life is loving and listening to one another.

When I feel I’m going to write something, then I just am quiet and I try to listen. Then something comes through. And I do what I can in order not to tamper with it.

You have to stop listening in categories. The music is either good or it’s bad.

In Europe they look upon jazz as art. In America it’s a diversion. Somebody opens a restaurant and installs another band off to the side. People don’t listen.

Listen to her voice, don’t look at her.