Rivers are highways that move on and bear us whither we wish to go.

Love has reasons which reason cannot understand.

Unable to make what is just strong, we have made what is strong just.

There are two types of mind . . . the mathematical, and what might be called the intuitive. The former arrives at its views slowly, but they are firm and rigid; the latter is endowed with greater flexibility and applies itself simultaneously to the diverse lovable parts of that which it loves.

Making fun of philosophy is really philosophising.

Do they think that they have given us great pleasure by telling us that they hold our soul to be no more than wind or smoke, and saying it moreover in tones of pride and satisfaction? Is this then something to be said gaily? Is it not on the contrary something to be said sadly, as being the saddest thing in the world?

Things are always at their best in their beginning.