In the tumult of great events, solitude was what I hoped for. Now it is what I love. How is it possible to be contented with anything else when one has come face to face with history?

Politics, when it is an art and a service, not an exploitation, is about acting for an ideal through realities.

You may be sure that the Americans will commit all the stupidities they can think of, plus some that are beyond imagination.

Nothing great will ever be achieved without great men, and men are great only if they are determined to be so.

Old France, weighed down with history, prostrated by wars and revolutions, endlessly vacillating from greatness to decline, but revived, century after century, by the genius of renewal!

A great country worthy of the name does not have any friends.

In the tumult of great events, solitude was what I hoped for. Now it is what I love. How is it possible to be contented with anything else when one has come face to face with history?