Some days language is very far away, and I realise that it will never express the things I need to say through it. Other days, I wake up and it is as if the room is filled with people, and there is meaning all about me.
Everyone carries a room about inside him. This fact can even be proved by means of the sense of hearing. If someone walks fast and one pricks up one's ears and listens, say in the night, when everything round about is quiet, one hears, for instance, the rattling of a mirror not quite firmly fastened to the wall.
Notes for a fragmentary novel entitled The Moment, linked at the top of the page.
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