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

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

We know well only what we are deprived of.

Men resemble great deserted palaces: the owner occupies only a few rooms and has closed-off wings where he never ventures.

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

Human love is often but the encounter of two weaknesses.

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