Objects are what matter. Only they carry the evidence that throughout the centuries something really happened among human beings.

How can my old photographs fail to create in me a feeling of emptiness and sorrow? They make me acutely aware that this second deprivation will be final this time.

The wise man doesn't give the right answers, he poses the right questions.

Since music is the only language with the contradictory attributes of being intelligible and untranslatable, the musical creator is a being comparable to the gods, and music itself the supreme mystery of the science of man.

Nor must we forget that in science there are no final truths.

The scientist is not a person who gives the right answers, he is one who asks the right questions.

There is today a frightful disappearance of living species, be they plants or animals. And it's clear that the density of human beings has become so great, if I can say so, that they have begun to poison themselves. And the world in which I am finishing my existence is no longer a world that I like.