To die for lack of love is horrible. The asphyxia of the soul.

I wanted to see you again, touch you, know who you were, see if I would find you identical with the ideal image of you which had remained with me and perhaps shatter my dream with the aid of reality. -Claude Frollo

A bit of mould is a pleiad of flowers; a nebula is an ant-hill of stars.

It is only barbarous nations who have a sudden growth after a victory

Anger may be foolish and absurd, and one may be wrongly irritated, but a man never feels outraged unless in some respect he is fundamentally right.

I am an intelligent river which has reflected successively all the banks before which it has flowed by meditating only on the images offered by those changing shores.

How frightened hypocrisy hastens to defend itself.