The ideal of calm exists in a sitting cat.
It is in the midst of the city that one writes the most inspiring pages about the country.
The horse is the only animal into which one can bang nails.
The void yields up nothing. You have to be a great poet to make it ring.
I have no religion,’ says Borneau, ‘but I respect the religion of others. Religion is sacred.’ Why this privilege, this immunity?... A believer creates God in his own image; if he is ugly, his God will be morally ugly. Why should moral ugliness be respectable?
Words are the coins making up the currency of sentences, and there are always too many small coins.