Journeys, like artists, are born and not made. A thousand differing circumstances contribute to them, few of them willed or determined by the will-whatever we may think.

The heaviest impact of the work of art is in the guts. Art does not reason. It manhandles you and changes you.

An idea is like a rare bird which cannot be seen. What one sees is the trembling of the branch it has just left.

Every man is made of clay and diamond, and no woman can nourish both.

I had become, with the approach of night, once more aware of loneliness and time - those two companions without whom no journey can yield us anything.

People only see in us the contemptible skirt-fever which rules our actions but completely miss the beauty-hunger underlying it.

I have done so many things in my life," she said to the mirror. "Evil things, perhaps. But never unattentively, never wastefully...was I wrong?