Quotes by Jorge Luis Borges
Time is the ultimate author, rewriting our stories with each passing moment.
History is a vast library where every book is a novel.
Mirrors multiply not reality, but the infinite possibility of it.
Perhaps oblivion is not the void we fear, but simply another library, vast and unread.
To write is to chase a shadow of a dream, forever just beyond the grasp.
To truly see, one must learn to look beyond the visible.
The universe is perhaps a single, vast thought dreaming itself into existence.
Reality is the most audacious of all fictions.
Every book is a mirror; it reflects the reader more than the writer.
Time is a river that bends back on itself, and we are adrift in its currents.
To lose oneself is, paradoxically, to find the universe.
Every ending is merely a rearrangement of what was, a different configuration of the same pieces.
Mirrors offer not truth, but a different kind of fiction.
The past is a library we can never fully access, its books forever rearranged by the wind.
The past is not a fixed landscape, but a shifting map redrawn by each new memory.
The future is not a destination, but an infinite series of nows.
The universe is not so much strange as our notions of it are narrow.
To name something is to begin its undoing, to imprison it within the bars of language.
To write is to construct a universe from the debris of dreams and forgotten languages.
The future is only the past, rehearsed in a different costume.
The labyrinth is not a place, but a state of mind. We carry its walls within us.
Every ending is merely a doorway, disguised as a wall.
To lose oneself in a book is not escape, but a brief claiming of all possible lives.
The universe is a library, and we are all books still being written.
Hope is the persistent error that reality will conform to our dreams.
To seek a single meaning is to blind oneself to a thousand possibilities.
The true labyrinth is not a place, but the endless reflection of oneself.
Reality is a shared illusion, a story we tell ourselves to avoid the silence of the void.
The future is no more fixed than the past; both are malleable clay in the hands of memory.
Every mirror holds a stranger, a ghost of who you were, or who you might become.
Regret is a phantom, haunting the corridors of what might have been.
To create is to remember what has not yet happened.
To truly forget is to rewrite the past with a fiction we prefer.
Memory is a fragile architect; it builds empires of sand on the shores of time.
To seek meaning is to invite the labyrinth. Better to wander, knowing the center may not exist.
Time is not a river, but a vast, still ocean where all moments coexist.
Every labyrinth begins with a single, deceptive step.
The labyrinth is not a place, but a state of mind.
Reality is the most persistent of illusions.
Memory is a labyrinth. Each turn, a forgotten path.
A book is a universe carried in the hand, a portal to countless realities.
I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library.
To believe in a single truth is to limit the infinite possibilities of the universe.
The map is not the territory, nor is the word the feeling.