Time Deals Gently Only With Those Who

The Duty Of Literature Is To Note What Counts, And To Light Up What Is Suited To The Light. If It Ceases To Choose And To Love, It Becomes Like A Woman Who Gives Herself Without Preference.

It Is The Certainty That They Possess The Truth That Makes Men Cruel.

It Is By Believing In Roses That You Make Them Bloom.

In Art As In Love, Instinct Is Enough.

Suffering... We Owe To It All That Is Good In Us, All That Gives Value To Life; We Owe To It Pity, We Owe To It Courage, We Owe To It All The Virtues.