The beautiful has but one type, the ugly has a thousand.

It is man's consolation that the future is to be a sunrise instead of a sunset.

To rove about, musing, that is to say loitering, is, for a philosopher, a good way of spending time.

The aim of art is almost divine: to bring to life again if it is writing history, to create if it is writing poetry.

To contemplate is to look at shadows.

There is suffering in the light; in excess it burns. Flame is hostile to the wing. To burn and yet to fly, this is the miracle of genius.

To be perfectly happy it does not suffice to possess happiness, it is necessary to have deserved it.