Human love is often but the encounter of two weaknesses.

The man who partakes in the breaking of the bread dares to build his house on the very core of love. He becomes, as it were, Godlike, but regardless of the strength he derives from it, his free will remains. We are always free to disown this immense grace, to abuse it. The Greatest Love may be betrayed. Fed on the Living Bread, we nevertheless conceal a part of ourselves which longs for swine's food.

If the flame inside you goes out, the souls that are next to you will die of cold.

We know well only what we are deprived of.

I write whenever it suits me. During a creative period I write every day; a novel should not be interrupted. When I cease to be carried along, when I no longer feel as though I were taking down dictation, I stop.

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

No love, no friendship, can cross the path of our destiny without leaving some mark on it forever.