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if sleep is the persistence, within us, of a fundamental and archaic state of waiting, it is a waiting that does not wait, that does not look forward to anything: an expectation so bare that it has forgotten what it is expecting. Sleep is this patience, which is perhaps the patience of eternity itself.

睡眠是某種古老而根本的等待狀態在我們體內的延續，並不真正等待什麼。睡眠就是這樣一種耐心。也許，就是永恆本身的耐心。

in the shop window you have promptly identified the cover with the title you were looking for. Following this visual trail, you have forced your way through the shop past the thick barricade of Books You Haven't Read, which were frowning at you from the tables and shelves, trying to cow you.

你一眼就認出了你要找的那本書的封面。循著這條視覺的線索，你穿過店內厚厚一道由「你尚未讀的書」所構成的路障。

Attention consists of suspending our thought, leaving it detached, empty, and ready to be penetrated by the object... Above all our thought should be empty, waiting, not seeking anything, but ready to receive in its naked truth the object that is to penetrate it. All wrong translations, all absurdities in geometry problems, all clumsiness of style, and all faulty connection of ideas in compositions and essays, all such things are due to the fact that thought has seized upon some idea too hastily, and being thus prematurely blocked, is not open to the truth.

思考過於倉促地攫住了某個念頭，而因這過早的閉合，對真實不再敞開。