Time, then, is breath of sleepers within a dream. And what is more fit to my mind but dreaming coiled with compression? If I have breath,
I still am dreaming and proof why no man holding phantom breath sees reality. Since what is release of human acumen except adjoined and burnished artifice?
~ Book Five, Canto One
The braid of syllables will seem strange to you only so long as you do not recognize your own mind.
~ Book Five, Canto One
When I speak I borrow no dead man's feet. When you hear this sound, you know it is mine. I use my own voice, pace, and inflection.
