All writing is a form of prayer.

Who would wish to be among the commonplace crowd of the little famous - who are each individually lost in a throng made up of themselves?

Scenery is fine - but human nature is finer.

I wish you could invent some means to make me at all happy without you. Every hour I am more and more concentrated in you; everything else tastes like chaff in my mouth.

His religion at best is an anxious wish,-like that of Rabelais, a great Perhaps.

You are always new to me.

Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?