Through the centuries, the history of peoples is but a lesson in mutual tolerance.

The only basis for living is believing in life, loving it, and applying the whole force of one's intellect to know it better.

If people can just love each other a little bit, they can be so happy.

I am little concerned with beauty or perfection. I don't care for the great centuries. All I care about is life, struggle, intensity.

I am spending delightful afternoons in my garden, watching everything living around me. As I grow older, I feel everything departing, and I love everything with more passion.

Perfection is such a nuisance that I often regret having cured myself of using tobacco.

Nothing develops intelligence like travel.