All the good writers of confessions, from Augustine onwards, are men who are still a little in love with their sins.

The heart errs like the head; its errors are not any the less fatal, and we have more trouble getting free of them because of their sweetness.

It is not customary to love what one has.

Of all earthly creatures, humans alone have the power to choose. One must never lose time in vainly regretting the past nor in complaining about the changes which cause us discomfort, for change is the very essence of life.

The man of science multiples the points of contact between man and nature.

All the good writers of confessions, from Augustine onwards, are men who are still a little in love with their sins.

It is the certainty that they possess the truth that makes men cruel.