I believe that only poetry counts ... A great novelist is first of all a great poet.

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.

That is the mystery of grace: it never comes too late.

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

Let us be wary of ready-made ideas about cowardice and courage: the same burden weighs infinitely more heavily on some shoulders than on others.

A cemetery saddens us because it is the only place of the world in which we do not meet our dead again.

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