The priest has just baptized you a Christian with water; and I baptize you a Frenchman, daring child, with a dewdrop of champagne on your lips.

You explain nothing, O poet, but thanks to you all things become explicable.

How amazing it is to be alive Anyone who lives and breathes and puts both feet on the ground, What possible reason could he have for envying the gods

Gentlemen, in the little moment that remains to us between the crisis and the catastrophe, we may as well drink a glass of Champagne.

Now I know that at the heart of the universe is joy.

In a word, poetry can not exist without emotion, or, if you will, without a movement of the soul which regulates the words.

All that passes is raised to the dignity of expression; all that happens is raised to the dignity of meaning. Everything is either symbol or parable.