Wherever anything lives, there is, open somewhere, a register in which time is being inscribed.

When it is said that an object occupies a large space in the soul or even that it fills it entirely, we ought to understand by this simply that its image has altered the shade of a thousand perceptions or memories, and that in this sense it pervades them, although it does not itself come into view.

I cannot escape the objection that there is no state of mind, however simple, that does not change every moment

To ease another's burden, help to carry it.

An absolute can only be given in an intuition, while all the rest has to do with analysis.

Is it astonishing that, like children trying to catch smoke by closing their hands, philosophers so often see the object they would grasp fly before them?

I believe I experience creativity at every moment of my life.