And at night I love to listen to the stars. It is like five hundred million little bells.

True love is inexhaustible; the more you give, the more you have.

What was my body to me? A kind of flunkey in my service. Let but my anger wax hot, my love grow exalted, my hatred collect in me, and that boasted solidarity between me and my body was gone.

Once men are caught up in an event, they cease to be afraid. Only the unknown frightens men.

But certainly, for us who understand life, figures are a matter of indifference.

Even our misfortunes are a part of our belongings.

Nothing can match the treasure of common memories, of trials endured together, of quarrels and reconciliations and generous emotions. It is idle, having planted an acorn in the morning, to expect that afternoon to sit in the shade of the oak.