“Paris flared – Paris, which the divine sun had sown with light, and where in glory waved the great future harvest of Truth and of Justice.”

Since the same human mire remains beneath, does not all civilization reduce itself to the superiority of smelling nice and living well?

Man’s highest duty is to protect animals from cruelty.

Every wave is a water sprite who swims in the current, each current is a path which snakes towards my palace, and my palace is fluidly built at the bottom of the lake, in the triangle of earth, fire and water.

Nothing develops intelligence like travel.

Did science promise happiness? I do not believe it. It promised truth, and the question is to know if we will ever make happiness with truth.

I do not despair in the least of ultimate triumph. I repeat it with intense conviction.

In Paris, everything’s for sale: wise virgins, foolish virgins, truth and lies, tears and smiles.

Truth is on the march, and nothing will stop it.

Did not one spend the first half of one’s days in dreams of happiness and the second half in regrets and terrors?

I am little concerned with beauty or perfection. I don’t care for the great centuries. All I care about is life, struggle, intensity.

If you shut up truth, and bury it underground, it will but grow.

These young people naturally grow up with ideas different from ours, for they are born for times when we shall no longer be here

Why then should money be blamed for all the dirt and crimes it causes? For is love less filthy – love which creates life?

Over all crowds there seems to float a vague distress, an atmosphere of pervasive melancholy, as if any large gathering of people creates an aura of terror and pity.

Through the centuries, the history of peoples is but a lesson in mutual tolerance.

Art for me…is a negation of society, an affirmation of the individual, outside of all the rules and all the demands of society.

I am especially glad of the divine gift of laughter: it has made the world human and lovable, despite all its pain and wrong.

This clay, so strong of heart, of sense so fine, Surely such clay is more than half divine–‘Tis only fools speak evil of the clay, The very stars are made of clay like mine.

My mistakes tell me I am quite human, but my brief flashes of brilliance tell me I am divine, too.

There’s so much power in knowing your power. All in divine timing.

You will never forgive anyone more than God has already forgiven you.

To err is human; to forgive, divine.

A bruised heart that chooses to beat with a passion for God amid pulsing pain and confusion may just be the most expensive offering placed on the divine altar.

Christianity is the companion of liberty in all its conflicts, the cradle of its infancy, and the divine source of its claims.