In reality, in love there is a permanent suffering which joy neutralizes, renders virtual delays, but which can at any moment become what it would ha….

The heart changes...but we learn of it only from reading or by imagination; for in reality its alteration, like that of certain natural phenomena, is….

It is not because other people are dead that our affection for them grows faint, it is because we ourselves are dying..

It is the wicked deception of love that it begins by making us dwell not upon a woman in the outside world but upon a doll inside our head, the only ….

When we have passed a certain age, the soul of the child that we were and the souls of the dead from whom we sprang come and shower upon us their ric….

For women who do not love us, as for the "disappeared", knowing that we no longer have any hope does not prevent us form continuing to wait. We live ….

The loss of a sense adds as much beauty to the world as its acquisition..

A picture's beauty does not depend on the things portrayed in it..

Three-quarters of the sicknesses of intelligent people come from their intelligence. They need at least a doctor who can understand this sickness..

But sometimes illumination comes to our rescue at the very moment when all seems lost; we have knocked at every door and they open on nothing until, ….

Photography is the product of complete alienation..

We live not alone but chained to a creature of a different kingdom: our body..

... we made much less happy by the kindness of a great writer, which strictly speaking we find only in his books, than we suffer from the hostility o….

Fashions, being themselves begotten of the desire for change, are quick to change also..

Habit is a second nature which prevents us from knowing the first, of which it has neither the cruelties nor the enchantments..

Only through art can we get outside of ourselves and know another's view of the universe which is not the same as ours and see landscapes which other….

After a certain age, the more one becomes oneself, the more obvious one's family traits become..

There comes in all our lives a time ... when the ears can listen to no music save what the moonlight breathes through the flute of silence..

I believe that all true art is classic, but the dictates of the mind rarely permit of its being recognized as such when it first appears..

In a separation it is the one who is not really in love who says the more tender things..

I shall not find a painting more beautiful because the artist has painted a hawthorn in the foreground, though I know of nothing more beautiful than ….