A year at the breast is quite enough; children who are suckled longer are said to grow stupid, and I am all for popular sayings.

Journalists grow accustomed to seeing evil and they let it pass; they proceed to approve it, and they end by committing it themselves.

Few men are raised in our estimation by being too closely examined.

Love is the only passion which suffers neither past nor future.

The smallest flower is a thought, a life answering to some feature of the Great Whole, of whom they have a persistent intuition.

Vocations which we wanted to pursue, but didn't, bleed, like colors, on the whole of our existence.

What makes friendship indissolute and what doubles its charms is a feeling we find lacking in love: I mean certitude.