When you like someone, you like them in spite of their faults. When you love someone, you love them with their faults.

Man's life seems to me like a long, weary night that would be intolerable if there were not occasionally flashes of light, the sudden brightness of which is so comforting and wonderful, that the moments of their appearance cancel out and justify the years of darkness.

Often it is the most deserving people who cannot help loving those who destroy them.

Among the letters my readers write me, there is a certain category which is continuously growing, and which I see as a symptom of the increasing intellectualization of the relationship between readers and literature.

Alas, Siddhartha, I see you suffering, but you're suffering a pain at which one would like to laugh, at which you'll soon laugh for yourself.

our friendship has no other purpose, no other reason, than to show you how utterly unlike me you are.

He had loved and he had found himself. Most people love to lose themselves.