Nothing can be done except little by little.

My heart is lost; the beasts have eaten it.

When a singer puts his hand on his heart, it means usually, I will always love you!

It is the greatest art of the devil to convince us he does not exist.

By nature, by necessity itself, [primitive man] is encyclopedic, while civilized man finds himself confined in the infinitely small regions of specialization.

Life is a hospital in which every patient is possessed by a desire to change his bed.

I sit in the sky like a sphinx misunderstood; My heart of snow is wed to the whiteness of swans; I hate the movement that displaces the rigid lines, With lips untaught neither tears nor laughter do I know.