...the nose is generally the organ in which stupidity is most readily displayed.

Illness is the doctor to whom we pay most heed; to kindness, to knowledge, we make promise only; pain we obey.

For women who do not love us, as for the "disappeared", knowing that we no longer have any hope does not prevent us form continuing to wait. We live on our guard, on watch; women whose son has gone asea on a dangerous exploration imagine at any minute, although it has long been certain that he has perished, that he will enter, miraculously saved, and healthy.

A little insomnia is not without its value in making us appreciate sleep, in throwing a ray of light upon that darkness.

Often it is just lack of imagination that keeps a man from suffering very much.

Perhaps the immobility of the things that surround us is forced upon them by our conviction that they are themselves, and not anything else, and by the immobility of our conceptions of them.

We think and name in one world, we live and feel in another.