The principles which men give to themselves end by overwhelming their noblest intentions.

Fancy language, like poplin, too often conceals an eczema.

Thus, in a middle course between these heights and depths, they drifted through life rather than lived, the prey of aimless days and sterile memories, like wandering shadows that could have acquired substance only by consenting to root themselves in the solid earth of their distress.

I enjoyed my own nature to the fullest, and we all know there lies happiness, although, to soothe one another mutually, we occasionally pretend to condemn such joys as selfishness.

To be born to create, to love, to win at games is to be born to live in time of peace. But war teaches us to lose everything and become what we were not. It all becomes a question of style.

In the world today, only a philosophy of eternity could justify non-violence.

To know oneself, one should assert oneself.