A work of art is an exaggeration.

The difficulty comes from this, that Christianity (Christian orthodoxy) is exclusive and that belief in its truth excludes belief in any other truth. It does not absorb; it repulses.

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

No encounter occured that day, and I was glad of it; I took out of my pocket a little Homer I had not opened since leaving Marseilles, reread three lines of the Odyssey, learned them by heart; then, finding sufficient sustenance in their rhythm and reveling in them at leisure, I closed the book and remained, trembling, more alive than I had thought possible, my mind numb with happiness.

God lies ahead. I convince myself and constantly repeat to myself that: He depends on us. It is through us that God is achieved.

The belief that becomes truth for me... is that which allows me the best use of my strength, the best means of putting my virtues into action.

I do not love men: I love what devours them.