I have never doubted the truth of signs, Adso; they are the only things man has with which to orient himself in the world. What I did not understand was the relation among signs. . . . I behaved stubbornly, pursuing a semblance of order, when I should have known well that there is no order in the universe.

The good of a book lies in its being read.

In the United States there’s a Puritan ethic and a mythology of success. He who is successful is good. In Latin countries, in Catholic countries, a successful person is a sinner.

Books are not made to be believed, but to be subjected to inquiry.

I felt like poisoning a monk.

I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth.

The real hero is always a hero by mistake; he dreams of being an honest coward like everybody else.

A BOOK IS A FRAGILE CREATURE, IT SUFFERS THE WEAR OF TIME, IT FEARS RODENTS, THE ELEMENTS, CLUMSY HANDS.