In the morning, you tear up the pages of your fever, but every word naturally leads you back to its color, its night. — Edmond Jabes Copy Share Image
It is very hard to live with silence. The real silence is death and this is terrible. To approach this silence, it is necessary… — Edmond Jabes Copy Share Image
For the writer, discovering the work he will write is both like a miracle and a wound, like the miracle of the wound. — Edmond Jabes Copy Share Image
We do not truly speak except at a distance. There is no word not severed. — Edmond Jabes Copy Share Image
Only what touches us closely preoccupies us. We prepare in solitude to face it. (The Little Book of Unsuspected Subversion) — Edmond Jabes Copy Share Image
Silence is no weakness of language. It is, on the contrary, its strength. It is the weakness of words not to know this. — Edmond Jabes Copy Share Image
The book is an unbearable totality. I write against a background of facets. — Edmond Jabes Copy Share Image
“In your loneliness, you hear the word from far away and then, in gratitude, look at it so closely that you cannot but drown… — Edmond Jabès Copy Share Image
It is not certainty which is creative, but the uncertainty we are pledged to in our works. — Edmond Jabes Copy Share Image
