Man cannot bear his own portrait. The image of his limits and his own determinacy exasperates him, drives him mad.

Do you not realise that dance is the pure act of metamorphosis?

War: a massacre of people who don't know each other for the profit of people who know each other but don't massacre each other.

It is a law of nature that we defend ourselves from one affection only by means of another.

It seems to me that the soul, when alone with itself and speaking to itself, uses only a small number of words, none of them extraordinary.

We hope vaguely but dread precisely.

Thanks to photography, the eye grew accustomed to anticipate what it should see and to see it; and it learned not to see nonexistent things which, hitherto, it had seen so clearly.