Style is as much under the words as in the words. It is as much the soul as it is the flesh of a work.

The artist must be in his work as God is in creation, invisible and all-powerful; one must sense him everywhere but never see him.

Years passed; and he endured the idleness of his intelligence and the inertia of his heart.

Through small apertures we glimpse abysses whose sombre depths turn us faint. And yet over the whole there hovers an extraordinary tenderness.

The better a work is, the more it attracts criticism; it is like the fleas who rush to jump on white linens.

She wanted to die, but she also wanted to live in Paris.

I had, as I told you, a great passion while still almost a child. When it was over, I divided myself in two, placing on one side the soul I kept for Art, and on the other, my body, which would have to fend for itself.