It is the belief and not the god that counts.

...after a night spent writing poetry, one is almost happy to hear the milkman at the door.

Life is an affair of people not of places. But for me, life is an affair of places and that is the trouble.

It has to be living, to learn the speech of the place, It has to face the man of the time.

Everything possessed the power to transform itself, or else, and what meant more, to be transformed.

The imperfect is our paradise.

Life is not free from its forms.