I have always thought that by observing things with a great deal of attention you eventually wrest some of their secrets from them, making them utter what they would most like to keep to themselves.

Yesterday, happiness came in suddenly, as it used to, and remained for a moment in the great, dark, silent drawing room.

I am probably exaggerating a little, but I owe my equilibrium to ink and paper.

The secret is to write just anything, to dare to write just anything, because when you write just anything, you begin to say what is important.

Within ourselves is not very far and yet it is so far that one's whole life is not always long enough to get there.

Let us hope that good authors who are bad Christians will find salvation through the books they write.

You cannot imagine at all how much you interest God; He is interested in you as if there were no one else on earth.