My great idea is that we must forgive the Pope. First of all, he needs it more than anyone else. Besides, it is the only way of placing oneself above him.

Great feelings take with them their own universe, splendid or abject. They light up with their passion an exclusive world in which they recognize their climate.

If those whom we begin to love could know us as we were before meeting them they could perceive what they have made of us.

After all perhaps the greatness of art lies in the perpetual tension between beauty and pain, the love of men and the madness of creation, unbearable solitude and the exhausting crowd, rejection and consent.

Without freedom, no art; art lives only on the restraints it imposes on itself, and dies of all others.

And for all his life it would be kindness and love that made him cry, never pain or persecution, which on the contrary only reinforced his spirit and his resolution.

I was comfortable in all, I admit, but at the same time, nothing satisfied me. Each joy made me seek another.