Let us leave to the brain what belongs to it, and agree that the work of the men of genius is of the superhuman, the offspring of man.

The human soul has still greater need of the ideal than of the real. It is by the real that we exist; it is by the ideal that we live.

A library implies an act of faith.

Let us say it now: to be blind and to be loved, is indeed, upon this earth where nothing is complete, one of the most strangely exquisite forms of happiness.

As with stomachs, we should pity minds that do not eat.

Nature is pitiless; she never withdraws her flowers, her music, her fragrance, and her sunlight from before human cruelty or suffering.

A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in--what more could he ask? A few flowers at his feet and above him the stars.