A writer is essentially a man who does not resign himself to loneliness.

A good critic is the sorcerer who makes some hidden spring gush forth unexpectedly under our feet.

To love someone is to see a miracle invisible to others.

A man's passion for the mountain is, above all, his childhood which refuses to die.

We know well only what we are deprived of.

The Eucharist engages us unreservedly; it is a pact of love, an alliance signed in the deeper recesses of our being. All our potentialities are called upon to warrant the protection and fulfillment of this pact.

The temples of those who deny the Real Presence are like corpses. The Lord was taken away and we do not know where they have laid Him.