We are scarcely apt to berate the source of enjoyment.

The fashions we call English in Paris are French in London, and vice versa. Franco-British hostility vanishes when it comes to questions of words and clothing. God save the King is a tune composed by Lully for a chorus in a play by Racine.

There are moments in life when all we can bear is the sense that our friend is near us; our wounds would wince at the touch of consoling words, that would reveal the depths of our pain.

Modesty is the conscience of the body.

Incurable wounds are those inflicted by tongue and eye, by mockery and disdain.

A great writer is nothing less than a martyr who does not die.

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