When the heart speaks, its language is the same under all latitudes.

One travels to run away from routine, that dreadful routine that kills all imagination and all our capacity for enthusiasm.

I am sure that instinctively we wish to be everything, to possess it-why cut the rose or marry the man, otherwise?

Humanity is made up of an infinity of different individuals. Each of us travels for motives exclusively his own.

There is only one valid species of voyage, which is walk towards the men.

The timelessness of a concept has to be woven into the running warp of dying time, vertical power has to be wedded to the horizontal earth.

I had to live in the desert before I could understand the full value of grass in a green ditch.