The flower bloomed and faded. The sun rose and sank. The lover loved and went. And what the poets said in rhyme, the young translated into practice.

I have had my vision.

We can best help you to prevent war not by repeating your words and following your methods but by finding new words and creating new methods.

The thing about Proust is his combination of the utmost sensibility with the utmost tenacity. He searches out these butterfly shades to the last grain. He is as tough as catgut and as evanescent as a butterfly's bloom.

It is curious how instinctively one protects the image of oneself from idolatry or any other handling that could make it ridiculous, or too unlike the original to be believed any longer.

It was the intimacy, a sort of spiritual suppleness, when mind prints upon mind indelibly.

I feel all shadows of the universe multiplied deep inside my skin.