Melancholy is a sensual pleasure that is deliberately provoked. How many people shut themselves away to make themselves sadder, or to weep beside a stream, or choose a sentimental book! We are constantly building and unbuilding ourselves.

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

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?

(Egypt) is a great place for contrasts: splendid things gleam in the dust.

What is the beautiful, if not the impossible.

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

The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe.