Love, whether sexual, parental, or fraternal, is essentially sacrificial, and prompts a man to give his life for his friends.

The effort of art is to keep what is interesting in existence, to recreate it in the eternal.

One of the peculiarities of recent speculation, especially in America, is that ideas are abandoned in virtue of a mere change of feeling, without any new evidence or new arguments. We do not nowadays refute our predecessors, we pleasantly bid them good-bye.

The constant demands of the heart and the belly can allow man only an incidental indulgence in the pleasures of the eye and the understanding.

love make us poets, and the approach of death should make us philosophers.

Tomes of aesthetic criticism hang on a few moments of real delight and intuition.

If clearness about things produces a fundamental despair, a fundamental despair in turn produces a remarkable clearness or even playfulness about ordinary matters.