There comes a day when, for someone who has persecuted us, we feel only indifference, a weariness at his stupidity. Then we forgive him.

The search for a new personality is futile; what is fruitful is the interest the old personality can take in new activities.

When writing poetry, it is not that produces a bright idea, but the bright idea that kindles the fire of.

Idleness makes hours pass slowly and years swiftly. Activity makes the hours short and the years long.

The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.

One must look for one thing only, to find many.

The art of living is the art of knowing how to believe lies.