It is the savor of bread broken with comrades that makes us accept the values of war.

Truth, for any man, is that which makes him a man.

One runs the risk of weeping a little, if one lets himself be tamed.

And that heart which was a wild garden was given to him who only loved trim lawns. And the imbecile carried the princess into slavery.

One can be a brother only in something. Where there is no tie that binds men, men are not united but merely lined up.

Charity never humiliated him who profited from it, nor ever bound him by the chains of gratitude, since it was not to him but to God that the gift was made.

The seed haunted by the sun never fails to find its way between the stones in the ground. And the pure logician, if no sun draws him forth, remains entangled in his logic.