A calm despair, without angry convulsions or reproaches directed at heaven, is the essence of wisdom.

Hope is the biggest of our foolish things.

Of late years (perhaps as a result of our political changes) art has borrowed from history more than ever.

Do you not see with your own eyes the chrysalis fact assume by degrees the wings of fiction?

Just as we descend into our consciences to judge of actions which our minds can not weigh, can we not also search in ourselves for the feeling which gives birth to forms of thought, always vague and cloudy?

France, for example, loves at the same time history and the drama, because the one explores the vast destinies of humanity, and the other the individual lot of man.

We live in an age of universal investigation, and of exploration of the sources of all movements.