A sleeping man holds in a circle around him the thread of the hours, the order of years and of worlds. He consults them instinctively upon awaking and in one second reads in them the point of the earth that he occupies, the time past until his arousal; but their ranks can be mingled or broken.

Desire makes everything blossom; possession makes everything wither and fade.

It is up to my spirit to find the truth. But how? Grave uncertainty, each time the spirit feels beyond its own comprehension; whenit, the explorer, is altogether to obscure land that it must search and where all its baggage is of no use. To search? That is not all: to create.

The true voyage of discovery is not a journey to a new place; it is learning to see with new eyes.

The highest praise of God consists in the denial of him by the atheist who finds creation so perfect that it can dispense with a creator.

We were resigned to suffering, thinking that we loved outside ourselves, and we perceive that our love is a function of our sorrow, that our love perhaps is our sorrow.

I had come in time to learn that it was a mistake to smile a friendly smile when somebody made a fool of me.