Those who do not weep, do not see.

He who despairs is wrong.

She worked in order to live, and presently fell in love, also in order to live, for the heart, too, has its hunger.

One of the hardest tasks is to extract continually from one's soul an almost inexhaustible ill will.

The spirit of God, like the sun, always gives all its light at once. The spirit of man resembles the pale moon, which has its phases, its absences and its returns, its lucidity and its spots, its fullness and its disappearance, which borrows all its light from the rays of the sun, and which still dares to intercept them on occasion.

Be as a bird perched on a frail branch that she feels bending beneath her, still she sings away all the same, knowing she has wings.

Rhyme, that enslaved queen, that supreme charm of our poetry, that creator of our meter.