A man who fears ridicule will never go far, for good or ill: he remains on this side of this talents, and even if he has genius, he is doomed to mediocrity.

After a sleepless night, the people in the street seem automatons. No one seems to breathe, to walk, Each looks as if he is worked by clockwork: nothing sponta…

Only what has been conceived in solitude, face to face with God, endures - whether one is a believer or not.

There is no limit to suffering.