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?

For glory gives herself only to those who have always dreamed of her.

I always thought I was Jeanne d'Arc and Bonaparte. How little one knows oneself.

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

The cemetery is filled with indispensable men.

Faced with crisis, the man of character falls back upon himself.

I cannot prevent the French from being French