The scapegoat has always had the mysterious power of unleashing man's ferocious pleasure in torturing, corrupting, and befouling.

Human love is often but the encounter of two weaknesses.

The arrogance of poets is only a defense; doubt gnaws the greatest among them; they need our testimony to escape despair.

God does not answer our desperate questionings; he simply gives us himself.

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

We are, all of us, molded and remolded by those who have loved us, and though that love may pass, we remain none the less their work--a work that very likely they do not recognize, and which is never exactly what they intended.

Every novel worthy of the name is like another planet, whether large or small, which has its own laws just as it has its own flora and fauna.