A feeling is no longer the same when it comes the second time. It dies through the awareness of its return. We become tired and weary of our feelings when they come too often and last too long.

We are stratified creatures, creatures full of abysses, with a soul of inconstant quicksilver, with a mind whose color and shape change as in a kaleidoscope that is constantly shaken.

Kitsch is the most pernicious of all prisons. The bars are covered with the gold of simplistic, unreal feelings, so that you take them for the pillars of a palace.

Sometimes, we are afraid of something because we're afraid of something else.

I am still there, at that distant place in time, I never left it, but live expanded in the past, or out of it.

Life is not what we live; it is what we imagine we are living.

I love tunnels. They 're the symbol of hope: sometime it will be bright again. If by chance it is not night.