There are some men whose only mission among others is to act as intermediaries; one crosses them like bridges and keeps going.

There is not a particle of life which does not bear poetry within it

Remembering the ball became for Emma a daily occupation. Every time Wednesday came round, she told herself when she woke up: 'Ah! One week ago...two weeks ago...three weeks ago, I was there!' And, little by little, in her memory, the faces all blurred together; she forgot the tunes of the quadrilles; no longer could she so clearly picture the liveries and the rooms; some details disappeared, but the yearning remained.

Everything one invents is true, you may be perfectly sure of that. Poetry is as precise as geometry.

But the disparaging of those we love always alienates us from them to some extent. We must not touch our idols; the gilt comes off in our hands.

She was the amoureuse of all the novels, the heroine of all the plays, the vague “she” of all the poetry books.

Me and my books in the same apartment, like a gherkin in its vinegar.