What better occupation, really, than to spend the evening at the fireside with a book, with the wind beating on the windows and the lamp burning bright...Haven't you ever happened to come across in a book some vague notion that you've had, some obscure idea that returns from afar and that seems to express completely your most subtle feelings?

The great natures which are good, are above everything generous and don't begrudge the giving of themselves.

By dint of railing at idiots, one runs the risk of becoming an idiot oneself.

Thought is the greatest of pleasures —pleasure itself is only imagination—have you ever enjoyed anything more than your dreams?

Poetry is as precise a thing as geometry.

Talent is nothing but long patience.

And he beholds the moon; like a rounded fragment of ice filled with motionless light.