It has been said that beauty is a promise of happiness. Conversely, the possibility of pleasure can be a beginning of beauty.

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

Reality is never more than a first step towards an unknown on the road to which one can never progress very far.

Beautiful books are always written in a sort of foreign language.

We do not succeed in changing things according to our desire, but gradually our desire changes.

Perhaps the immobility of the things that surround us is forced upon them by our conviction that they are themselves, and not anything else, and by the immobility of our conceptions of them.

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.