The young people who come to me in the hope of hearing me utter a few memorable maxims are quite disappointed. Aphorisms are not my forte, I say nothing but banalities.... I listen to them and they go away delighted.

We should enjoy this summer, flower by flower, as if it were to be the last one we’ll see.

What I dislike least in my former self are the moments of prayer.

The work of art is the exaggeration of an idea.

What eludes logic is the most precious element in us, and one can draw nothing from a syllogism that the mind has not put there in advance.

We no longer admit any other truth than that which is expedient; for there is no worse error than the truth that may weaken the arm that is fighting.

Sin is whatever obscures the soul.