Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us.

Like all very handsome men who die tragically, he left not so much a character behind him as a legend. Youth and death shed a halo through which it is difficult to see a real face.

In any case life is but a procession of shadows, and God knows why it is that we embrace them so eagerly, and see them depart with such anguish, being shadows.

But Time, unfortunately, though it makes animals and vegetables bloom and fade with amazing punctuality has no such simple effect upon the mind of man.

When I cannot see words curling like rings of smoke round me I am in darkness—I am nothing.

If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people.

One must love everything.