One should be a painter. As a writer, I feel the beauty, which is almost entirely colour, very subtle, very changeable, running over my pen, as if you poured a large jug of champagne over a hairpin.

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

With twice his wits, she had to see things through his eyes -- one of the tragedies of married life.

Ransack the language as he might, words failed him. He wanted another landscape, and another tongue.

The mind which is most capable of receiving impressions is very often the least capable of drawing conclusions.

When you consider things like the stars, our affairs don't seem to matter very much, do they?

Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.