If only the sense of actuality can be lulled-and it sleeps for ever in most historians-there is no passion that cannot be gratified in the past.

There is something majestic in the bad taste of Italy.

To make us feel small in the right way is a function of art; men can only make us feel small in the wrong way.

He doesn't want you to be real, and to think and to live. He doesn't love you. But I love you. I want you to have your own thoughts and ideas and feelings, even when I hold you in my arms.

Don't believe those lies about intellectual people. They're only written to soothe the majority.

They cared for no one, they were outside humanity, and death, had it come, would only have continued their pursuit of a retreating horizon.

Lord I disbelieve - help thou my unbelief.