God made everything out of nothing. But the nothingness shows through.

It would be impossible to "love" anyone or anything one knew completely. Love is directed towards what lies hidden in its object.

Whoever wants to accomplish great things must devote to a lot of profound thought to details.

Interruption, incoherence, surprise are the ordinary conditions of our life. They have even become real needs for many people, whose minds are no longer fed by anything but sudden changes and constantly renewed stimuli. We can no longer bear anything that lasts. We no longer know how to make boredom bear fruit. So the whole question comes down to this: can the human mind master what the human mind has made?

From the moment that photography appeared, the descriptive genre began to invade Letters... In verse as in prose the décor and exterior aspects of life took an almost excessive place.

In poetry everything which must be said is almost impossible to say well.

A man's true secrets are more secret to himself than they are to others.