A sentence that resembles a thought, — that is, that does not exceed its dimensions, does not alter its form, that falls short, finally, of none of the thought’s limits and goes no further.
It is above all in the spirituality of ideas that poetry consists. — Thus: to make something spiritual.
The way a bird looks. It does not seem to cast its gazes like rays, as men do, but to offer its eyes to the object like a mirror. It turns its eye with its head and applies it, after seeking the point.
February 19.
Observe: the desire to please and to render service — or — the desire to be agreeable and to be useful. Whoever lacks one of these desires and does not have both is imperfect.
How much the eye resembles a star, a torch, and a radiating mirror.
By living, one learns to read. (How, and what results from it.)
February 20.
It is always our incapacities that irritate us.
Mme P[astoret] said to me today: “Reading is not a passive thing.” Indeed, it requires activity, cooperation. I mean on the reader’s part.
Every ray that passes beyond and is not reflected gives no light.
Nothing that is not received and retained by attention is perceived.
February 21.
... but he has a mind that does not love the minds of others.
— Indeed, familiarity in great dangers shows presence of mind and therefore courage. Thus there is little reason to criticize Léontine’s remark: “You are a girl, Eudoxe, and you have spoken.”
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The Notebooks of Joseph Joubert, Volume II · Book Mode · Diotimos