Do not wait for life. Do not long for it. Be aware, always and at every moment, that the miracle is in the here and now.

Every kiss provokes another. Oh, in those earliest days of love how naturally the kisses spring to life! So closely, in their profusion, do they crowd together that lovers would find it as hard to count the kisses exchanged in an hour as to count the flowers in a meadow in May.

For one cannot change, that is to say become another person, while continuing to acquiesce to the feelings of the person one no longer is.

That translucent alabaster of our memories.

We are ordinarily so indifferent to people that when we have invested one of them with the possibility of giving us joy, or suffering, it seems as if he must belong to some other universe, he is imbued with poetry.

People who, not being in love themselves, feel that a clever man should only be unhappy about a person who is worth his while; which is rather like being astonished that anyone should condescend to die of cholera at the bidding of so insignificant a creature as the comma bacillus.

Our desires cut across one another, and in this confused existence it is rare for happiness to coincide with the desire that clamoured for it.