Lies are essential to humanity.

The memory of a particular image is but regret for a particular moment.

The past not merely is not fugitive, it remains present.

Words do not change their meanings so drastically in the course of centuries as, in our minds, names do in the course of a year or two.

Our worst fears, like our greatest hopes, are not outside our powers, and we can come in the end to triumph over the former and to achieve the latter.

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

For what we suppose to be our love or our jealousy is never a single, continuous and indivisible passion. It is composed of an infinity of successive loves, of different jealousies, each of which is ephemeral, although by their uninterrupted multiplicity they give us the impression of continuity, the illusion of unity.