Through the lack of attaching myself to words, my thoughts remain nebulous most of the time. They sketch vague, pleasant shapes and then are swallowed up; I forget them almost immediately.

A maioria das vezes, por não se ligarem a palavras, meus pensamentos permanecem nebulosos. Desenham formas vagas e agradáveis, submergem: esqueço-os imediatamente.

La plupart du temps, faute de s'attacher à des mots, mes pensées restent des brouillards. Elles dessinent des formes vagues et plaisantes, s'engloutissent : aussitôt, je les oublie.

La mayor parte del tiempo, al no unirse a palabras, mis pensamientos quedan en la niebla. Dibujan formas claras y agradables, se disipan; en seguida las olvido.

In the past - even a long while after she left me - I thought of Anny. Now I think of no one any more. I don't even bother looking for words. It flows in me, more or less quickly. I fix nothing, I let it go. Through the lack of attaching myself to words, my thoughts remain nebulous most of the time. They sketch vague, pleasant shapes and then are swallowed up: I forget them almost immediately.

I must always forget how one word is able to pick out another, to manner another, until I have got something I might have said... but did not.

Thought does not grasp, does not convey, what is at times clearly felt. Thought is too slow, too short. There are no words and no forms to convey what one sees and knows in such moments. And it is impossible to fix these moments, to arrest them, to make them longer, more obedient for the will. There is no possibility of remembering what has been found and understood, and later repeating it to oneself. It disappears as dreams disappear. Perhaps it is all nothing but a dream.

More often than not, it seems that people are having thoughts, though not really thinking about what they’re thinking about — at least not in an effective way that resolves, advances, or manages the content.

Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different immediately after they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish.

He lost himself in a maze of thoughts that were rendered vague by his lack of words to express them. Frowning, he tried again.

I do remember, and then when I try to remember, I forget.

My dull brain was wrought with things forgotten.

Sometimes when I'm talking, my words can't keep up with my thoughts. I wonder why we think faster than we speak. Probably so we can think twice.

Like words, memories never really succeed in “catching” reality.