A vocation is born to us all; happily most of us meet promptly our twin,--occupation.
Journalism is a giant catapult set in motion by pigmy hatreds.
One hour of love has a whole life in it.
The country is provincial; it becomes ridiculous when it tries to ape Paris.
All human beings go through a previous life... Who knows how many fleshly forms the heir of heaven occupies before he can be brought to understand the value of that silence and solitude of spiritual worlds?
What makes friendship indissolute and what doubles its charms is a feeling we find lacking in love: I mean certitude.