No love, no friendship, can cross the path of our destiny without leaving some mark on it forever..

Where does discipline end? Where does cruelty begin? Somewhere between these, thousands of children inhabit a voiceless hell..

We know well only what we are deprived of..

To love someone is to see a miracle invisible to others..

I believe that only poetry counts ... A great novelist is first of all a great poet..

The man who partakes in the breaking of the bread dares to build his house on the very core of love. He becomes, as it were, Godlike, but regardless ….

God does not answer our desperate questionings; he simply gives us himself..

It seems that, after nineteen centuries of extraordinary glorification, the small Host for which so many cathedrals have sprung up, the small Host th….

Tell me what you read and I'll tell you who you are is true enough, but I'd know you better if you told me what you reread..

If the flame inside you goes out, the souls that are next to you will die of cold..

Did you ever have a conversation with someone who misunderstood everything you had to say? It's exhausting, and the ironic part is that the more you ….

A man's passion for the mountain is, above all, his childhood which refuses to die..

Men resemble great deserted palaces: the owner occupies only a few rooms and has closed-off wings where he never ventures..

Human love is often but the encounter of two weaknesses..

If you would tell me the heart of a man, tell me not what he reads, but what he rereads..

The scapegoat has always had the mysterious power of unleashing man's ferocious pleasure in torturing, corrupting, and befouling..

A writer is essentially a man who does not resign himself to loneliness..

What I fear is not being forgotten after my death, but, rather, not being enough forgotten. As we were saying, it is not our books that survive, but ….

We are, all of us, molded and remolded by those who have loved us, and though that love may pass, we remain none the less their work--a work that ver….

Doubt is nothing but a trivial agitation on the surface of the soul, while deep down there is a calm certainty..

There is no accident in our choice of reading. All our sources are related..