They like my books better in England than in France; a translation would be very successful there.

But sometimes the future is latent in us without our knowing it, and our supposedly lying words foreshadow an imminent reality.

Thanks to art, instead of seeing one world, our own, we see it multiplied and as many original artists as there are, so many worlds are at our disposal.

Dear Friend: I have nearly died three times since morning.

The inertia of the mind urges it to slide down the easy slope of imagination, rather than to climb the steep slope of introspection.

Love is not vain because it is frustrated, but because it is fulfilled. The people we love turn to ashes when we posess them.

No days, perhaps, of all our childhood are ever so fully lived as those that we had regarded as not being lived at all: days spent wholly with a favourite book. Everything that seemed to fill them full for others we pushed aside, because it stood between us and the pleasures of the Gods.