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

I hate that which we have decided to call realism, even though I have been made one of its high priests.

What wretched poverty of language! To compare stars to diamonds!

But, in her life, nothing was going to happen. Such was the will of God! The future was a dark corridor, and at the far end the door was bolted.

They took each other's advice, opened one book, went over to another, then did not know what to decide when opinions diverged so widely.

Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings.

The faster the word sticks to the thought, the more beautiful is the effect.