As you get older, the heart shed its leaves like a tree. You cannot hold out against certain winds. Each day tears away a few more leaves; and then there are the storms that break off several branches at one go. And while nature’s greenery grows back again in the spring, that of the heart never grows back.

Art is nothing without form.

I don't believe that happiness is possible, but I think tranquility is.

One mustn't look at the abyss, because there is at the bottom an inexpressible charm which attracts us.

Exuberance is better than taste.

It is necessary to sleep upon the pillow of doubt.

Prose is like hair; it shines with combing.