Listen, my friend, there are two races of beings. The masses teeming and happy - common clay, if you like - eating, breeding, working, counting their pennies; people who just live; ordinary people; people you can't imagine dead. And then there are the others - the noble ones, the heroes. The ones you can quite well imagine lying shot, pale and tragic; one minute triumphant with a guard of honor, and the next being marched away between two gendarmes

Men create real miracles when they use their God-given courage and intelligence.

Beauty, real beauty, is something very grave. If there is a God, He must be partly that.

Propaganda is a soft weapon; hold it in your hands too long, and it will move about like a snake, and strike the other way.

Life has a way of setting things in order and leaving them be. Very tidy, is life.

A happy love is full of quarrels, you know.

I like reality. It tastes like bread.