It seems that laughter needs an echo.

Action on the move creates its own route, creates to a very great extent the conditions under which it is to be fulfilled and thus baffles all calculation.

All the translations of a poem in all possible languages may add nuance to nuance and, by a kind of mutual retouching, by correcting one another, may give an increasingly faithful picture of the poem they translate, yet they will never give the inner meaning of the original.

... divine love is not something belonging to God: it is God Himself.

We are free when our actions emanate from our total personality, when they express it, when they resemble it in the indefinable way a work of art sometimes does the artist.

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

The only cure for vanity is laughter. And the only fault that's laughable is vanity.