A limited vocabulary, but one with which you can make numerous combinations, is better than thirty thousand words that only hamper the action of the mind.

Every beginning is a consequence - every beginning ends some thing.

A bad poem is one that vanishes into meaning.

An artist never really finishes his work, he merely abandons it.

The history of thought may be summed up in these words: it is absurd by what it seeks and great by what it finds.

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?

There is a difference if we see something with a pencil in our hand or without one.