Peace is a virtual, mute, sustained victory of potential powers against probable greeds

A work is never completed except by some accident such as weariness, satisfaction, the need to deliver, or death: for, in relation to who or what is making it, it can only be one stage in a series of inner transformations.

To see is to forget the name of the thing one sees.

No work of art is ever completed, it is only abandoned.

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

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

History is the science of things which are not repeated.