The future is the only transcendental value for men without God.

The world is never quiet, even its silence eternally resounds with the same notes, in vibrations which escape our ears. As for those that we perceive, they carry sounds to us, occasionally a chord, never a melody.

There is no love of life without despair of life.

We used to wonder where war lived, what it was that made it so vile. And now we realize that we know where it lives... inside ourselves.

A loveless world is a dead world.

When love ceases to be tragic it is something else and the individual again throws himself in search of tragedy.

In every guilty man, there is some innocence. This makes every absolute condemnation revolting.