To a great extent, suffering is a sort of need felt by the organism to make itself familiar with a new state, which makes it uneasy, to adapt its sensibility to that state.

A little tap at the window, as though some missile had struck it, followed by a plentiful, falling sound, as light, though, as if a shower of sand were being sprinkled from a window overhead; then the fall spread, took on an order, a rhythm, became liquid, loud, drumming, musical, innumerable, universal. It was the rain

The fixity of a habit is generally in direct proportion to its absurdity.

Our shadows, now parallel, now close together and joined, traced an exquisite pattern at our feet.

How paradoxical it is to search reality for the pictures that are stored in one's memory.

Griefs, at the moment when they change into ideas, lose some of their power to injure our heart.

Like many intellectuals, he was incapable of saying a simple thing in a simple way.