If you ask the great city, ‘Who is this person?,’ she will answer, ‘He is my child.
As for us, we respect the past here and there, and we spare it, above all, provided that it consents to be dead. If it insists on being alive, we attack it, and we try to kill it.
Science says the first word on everything, and the last word on nothing.
All the forces in the world are not so powerful as an idea whose time has come.
What is history? An echo of the past in the future a reflex from the future on the past.
Our life dreams the Utopia. Our death achieves the Ideal.
Great perils have this beauty, that they bring to light the fraternity of strangers.
There is always a patch of blue sky to lovers, although the rest of the world may see nothing but their umbrellas.
THIS IS THE SURPRISE.
Style is the shape the ideal takes, rhythm, its movement.
Philosophy is the microscope of the thought.
Peace is happiness digesting
No army can stop an idea whose time has come
Lend your ear then to this tutti of steeples; diffuse over the whole the buzz of half a million of human beings, the eternal murmur of the river, the infinite piping of the wind, the grave and distant...
In love there are no friends everywhere where there is a pretty woman hostility is open.
If they had had a different neighbour, one less sel-absorbed and more concerned for others, a man of normal, charitable instincts, their desperate state would not have gone unnoticed, their distress-s...
If no one loved, the sun would go out.
He was there alone with himself, collected, tranquil, adoring, comparing the serenity of his heart with the serenity of the skies, moved in the darkness by the visible splendors of the constellations,...
He reached for his pocket, and found there, only reality
Happy, even in anguish, is he to whom God has given a soul worthy of love and grief! He who has not seen the things of this world, and the heart of men in this double light, has seen nothing, and know...