It is in your act that you exist, not in your body. Your act is yourself, and there is no other you.
Perfection is not when there is no more to add, but no more to take away.
To be a man is, precisely, to be responsible.
There is nothing that can equal the treasure of so many shared memories.
Pure logic is the ruin of the spirit.
True love begins when nothing is looked for in return.
One runs the risk of weeping a little, if one lets himself be tamed.
It is such a secret place, the land of tears.
Grown-ups never understand anything for themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them.
For true love is inexhaustible; the more you give, the more you have. And if you go to draw at the true fountainhead, the more water you draw, the more abundant is its flow.
When I find a woman attractive, I have nothing at all to say. I simply watch her smile. Intellectuals take apart her face in order to explain it bit by bit, but they no longer see the smile.
On a day of burial there is no perspective--for space itself is annihilated. Your dead friend is still a fragmentary being. The day you bury him is a day of chores and crowds, of hands false or true to be shaken, of the immediate cares of mourning. The dead friend will not really die until tomorrow, when silence is round you again. Then he will show himself complete, as he was--to tear himself away, as he was, from the substantial you. Only then will you cry out because of him who is leaving and whom you cannot detain.
One cannot build life from refrigerators, politics, credit statements and crossword puzzles. That is impossible. Nor can one exist for any length of time without poetry, without color, without love.
Demagoguery enters at the moment when, for want of a common denominator, the principle of equality degenerates into the principle of identity.
I am very fond of sunsets. Come, let us go look at a sunset.
No single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to us. To live is to be slowly born. It would be a bit too easy if we could go about borrowing ready-made souls.
When someone blushes, doesn't that mean 'yes'?
And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And you will sometimes open your window, so, for that pleasure . . . And your friends will be properly astonished to see you laughing as you look up at the sky! Then you will say to them, 'Yes, the stars always make me laugh!' And they will think you are crazy. It will be a very shabby trick that I shall have played on you.
Once you are my friend, I am responsible for you.
If you love a flower that lives on a star, it is sweet to look at the sky at night. All the stars are a-bloom with flowers.
The arms of love encompass you with your present, your past, your future, the arms of love gather you together.
In giving you are throwing a bridge across the chasm of your solitude.
He who would travel happy must travel lite.
Truths may clash without contradicting each other.
The tree is a slow, enduring force straining to win the sky.
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