[Charles de Gaulle] has been abysmally careless, like a man running a bus over mountains, who forgot to equip it with good brakes.

The stench of human wreckage in which the Nazi regime finally sank down to defeat has been the most shocking fact of modern times.

She had storms all her life, but she died peacefully.

Genius is a talent only for living, those who possess it have little gift for dying.

Never have nights been more beautiful than these nights of anxiety. In the sky have been shining in trinity the moon, Venus and Mars. Nature has been more splendid than man.

Genius is immediate, but talent takes time.

Proust has been dead since 1922, yet the annual appearance of his posthumous works has left him, to the reader, alive. Now there is nothing left to publish. Five years after his interment, Proust seems dead for the first time.