One can be the master of what one does, but never of what one feels.
The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe.
It is always sad to leave a place to which one knows one will never return.
Life is so horrible that one can only bear it by avoiding it. And that can be done by living in the world of art.
It's a delicious thing to write. To be no longer yourself but to move in an entire universe of your own creating.
A man is a critic when he cannot be an artist, in the same way that a man becomes an informer when he cannot be a soldier.
Stupidity lies in wanting to draw conclusions.
We must laugh and cry, enjoy and suffer, in a word, vibrate to our full capacity … I think that’s what being really human means.
Mediocrity cherishes rules; as for me, I hate them; I feel for them and for every restriction, corporation, caste, hierarchy, level, herd, a loathing which fills my soul, and it is in this respect perhaps that I understand martyrdom.
Anything becomes interesting if you look at it long enough.
It is necessary to sleep upon the pillow of doubt.
COLD. Healthier than heat.
Stupidity consists in wanting to reach conclusions. We are a thread, and we want to know the whole cloth.
Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars.
Whatever the thing you wish to say, there is but one word to express it, but one verb to give it movement, but one adjective to qualify it; you must seek until you find this noun, this verb, this adjective.
Read in order to live.
By dint of railing at idiots, one runs the risk of becoming an idiot oneself.
Writing history is like drinking an ocean and pissing a cupful.
One never tires of what is well written, style is life! It is the very blood of thought!
It’s hard to communicate anything exactly and that’s why perfect relationships between people are difficult to find.
I don't believe that happiness is possible, but I think tranquility is.
Nothing is more humiliating than to see idiots succeed in enterprises we have failed in.
I tried to discover, in the rumor of forests and waves, words that other men could not hear, and I pricked up my ears to listen to the revelation of their harmony.
Our ignorance of history causes us to slander our own times.
What an awful thing life is, isn’t it? It’s like soup with lots of hairs floating on the surface. You have to eat it nevertheless.
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