'Mad' is a term we use to describe a man who is obsessed with one idea and nothing else.

Thought itself needs words. It runs on them like a long wire. And if it loses the habit of words, little by little it becomes shapeless, somber.

Memories are like stones, time and distance erode them like acid.

It's perfectly obvious that somebody's responsible and somebody's innocent. Otherwise it [justice] makes no sense at all.

Is not man himself the most unsettled of all the creatures of the earth? What is this trembling sensation that is intensified with each ascending step in the natural order?

To believe in God is to know that all the rules will be fair, and that there will be wonderful surprises.

Sisterly love is, of all sentiments, the most abstract. Nature does not grant it any functions.