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.

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

A writer is essentially a man who does not resign himself to loneliness.

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.

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.

Doubt is nothing but a trivial agitation on the surface of the soul, while deep down there is a calm certainty.