Jean Prouvaire was timid only in repose. Once excited, he burst forth, a sort of mirth accentuated his enthusiasm, and he was at once both laughing and lyric.

...It all seemed to him to have disappeared as if behind a curtain at a theater. There are such curtains that drop in life. God is moving on to the next act.

To think is of itself to be useful; it is always and in all cases a striving toward God.

If the infinite had no me, then me would be its limit. It would not be the infinite, therefore it would not be.

There is a way of meeting error while on the road of truth.

We see past time in a telescope and present time in a microscope. Hence the apparent enormities of the present.

Women play with their beauty as children do with their knives. They wound themselves with it.