That is the explanation of war, an outrage by humanity upon humanity in despite of humanity.

That men saw his mask, but the bishop saw his face. That men saw his life, but the bishop saw his conscience.

Why worry about what threatens our heads or purses? Let us think instead of what threatens our souls.

The supreme ordeal, let us say rather, the only ordeal, is the loss of the beloved being.

Another story must begin!

All that was neither a city, nor a church, nor a river, nor color, nor light, nor shadow: it was reverie. For a long time, I remained motionless, letting myself be penetrated gently by this unspeakable ensemble, by the serenity of the sky and the melancholy of the moment. I do not know what was going on in my mind, and I could not express it; it was one of those ineffable moments when one feels something in himself which is going to sleep and something which is awakening.

A fixed idea ends in madness or heroism.