The same battle in the clouds will be known to the deaf only as lightning and to the blind only as thunder.

The true Christian is in all countries a pilgrim and a stranger.

To fight is a radical instinct; if men have nothing else to fight over they will fight over words, fancies, or women, or they will fight because they dislike each other's looks, or because they have met walking in opposite directions.

Nothing is really so poor and melancholy as art that is interested in itself and not in its subject.

There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval. The dark background which death supplies brings out the tender colours of life in all their purity.

The human race, in its intellectual life, is organized like the bees: the masculine soul is a worker, sexually atrophied, and essentially dedicated to impersonal and universal arts; the feminine is queen, infinite fertile, omnipresent in its brooding industry, but passive and abounding in intuitions without method and passions without justice.

To call war the soil of courage and virtue is like calling debauchery the soil of love.