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

There is no accident in our choice of reading. All our sources are related.

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

If you would tell me the heart of a man, tell me not what he reads, but what he rereads.

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

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

We know well only what we are deprived of.