Speaking of Georges Bizet: His music has the tang of sunny climates, their bracing air, their clearness. It voices a sensibility hitherto unknown to us.

Sensuality often hastens the "Growth of Love" so much that the roots remain weak and are easily torn up.

There is a stupid humility that is quite common and when a person is afflicted with it, he is once and for all disqualified for being a disciple of knowledge.

We have to be careful that in throwing out the devil, we don't throw out the best part of ourselves.

A man unconsciously imagines that where he is strong, where he feels most thoroughly alive, the element of his freedom must lie.

A man far oftener appears to have a decided character from persistently following his temperament than from persistently following his principles.

We have art in order not to die of the truth.