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

Art is a corner of creation seen through a temperament.

The past was but the cemetery of our illusions: one simply stubbed one's toes on the gravestones.

One forges one's style on the terrible anvil of daily deadlines.

And that wreched creature without hands or feet, who had to be put to bed and fed like a child, that pitiable remnant of a man, whose almost vanished life was nothing more than one scream of pain, cried out in furious indignation: 'What a fool one must be to go and kill oneself!' " - 'Joy of Life

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

Has science ever retreated? No! It is Catholicism which has always retreated before her, and will always be forced to retreat.