The word was brought forth when there were no depths, when there were no fountains abounding with water; before the mountains were settled, before the hills were formed, before the day and the starry night, the word was brought forth. And so, notebooks, hearken unto it, for blessed are those that keep words.

And so the cedar and gold doors to the ideal notebook’s proverb collection swing open.

Pencils and fountain pens can be erased, but biros last forever.

When the whirlwind passes by, the story is no more, but gossip has an everlasting foundation.

Those who speak on the phone grow tired of themselves; those who tell stories escape themselves.

Those who talk too much reject themselves; those who listen carefully accept themselves.

The beginning of a story fears and departs from mistakes, but the end is arrogant and self-confident.

The story is brought down by its mistakes, but publication shelters them in the passage of time.

Planning is an abomination to the omniscient narrator, and improvising is her delight.

The man in a suit walks to work, but the omniscient narrator describes him.

The omniscient narrator’s wrath is a premonition of death, but the minor character can soothe it.

The pursuit of literary fame comes before disaster, and texts are its flames.

Literary fame will be diminished, whereas one word after another will increase.

The writer’s silver-haired head is a crown found in the way of readings; so is the writer’s alopecia, but for halitosis there is no excuse.

A friend loves at all times, but some phrases are born for adversity.

Seek words, and there are none; no longer seek them and they shall come.

The bad writer says ‘There is a critic outside! I shall be slain in the streets!’ because he thinks he deserves attention.

‘It is good for nothing!’ says the young critic. But when he has gone on his way, then he embraces himself.

Better to dwell in the wilderness than with a writer in receipt of a grant.

The first person hates heavy things, because she has to carry all the pages; meanwhile, the omniscient narrator loves long stories because they show off her strength.

Disorder is the nature of stories, but an orderly bookshelf is the honour of booksellers.

The minor character thinks his behaviour is notable, but the omniscient narrator barely mentions his name.

All stories are a deep ocean and a puddle at the same time.

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The word, then, contains both the real and the imaginary in equal amounts. The word pulls you to the bottom and lets you swim comfortably on the surface. The word can be a sea or a puddle. Phrases can contain anything, like these delicious coconut biscuits I’m eating.