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

Now literary success can only be won in solitude by persevering labor.

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?

To say to a rich man: You are poor! is to tell the Archbishop of Granada that his sermons are worthless.

A woman filled with faith in the one she loves is the creation of a novelist's imagination.

Virtue in women is perhaps a question of temperament.

Does not any limit imposed upon one inspire a desire to go beyond it? Does not our keenest suffering arise when our free will is crossed?