Now are the woods all black, But still the sky is blue.

A person does not...stand motionless and clear before our eyes with his merits, his defects, his plans, his intentions with regard to ourself exposed on his surface...but is a shadow which we can never succeed in penetrating...a shadow behind which we can alternately imagine, with equal justification, that there burns the flame of hatred and of love.

Any mental activity is easy if it need not be subjected to reality.

When we have passed a certain age, the soul of the child that we were and the souls of the dead from whom we sprang come and shower upon us their riches and their spells, asking to be allowed to contribute to the new emotions which we feel and in which, erasing their former image, we recast them in an original creation.

Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were.

A change in the weather is sufficient to recreate the world and ourselves.

Unkind people imagine themselves to be inflicting pain on someone equally unkind.