The real voyage of discovery consists, not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.
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The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.
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The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.
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Things don't change, but by and by our wishes change.
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... automatically, worn out by the gloomy day and by the perspective of a sad tomorrow, I put in my mouth a spoonful of tea in which I had sof...
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Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.
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A work of art that contains theories is like an object on which the price tag has been left.
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Desire makes everything blossom possession makes everything wither and fade.
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We say that the hour of death cannot be forecast, but when we say this we imagine that hour as placed in an obscure and distant future. It never occurs to us that it has any connection with the day already begun or that death could arrive this same afternoon, this afternoon which is so certain and which has every hour filled in advance.
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For each illness that doctors cure with medicine, they provoke ten in healthy people by inoculating them with the virus that is a thousand times more powerful than any microbe: the idea that one is ill
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The features of our face are hardly more than gestures which force of habit made permanent. Nature, like the destruction of Pompeii, like the metamorphosis of a nymph into a tree, has arrested us in an accustomed movement.
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As the Arab proverb says, The dog barks and the caravan passes. After having dropped this quotation, Mr. Norpois stopped to judge the effect it had on us. It was great; the proverb was known to us: it had been replaced that year among men of high worth by this other: Whoever sows the wind reaps the storm, which had needed some rest since it was not as indefatigable and hardy as, Working for the King of Prussia.
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We are able to find everything in our memory, which is like a dispensary or chemical laboratory in which chance steers our hand sometimes to a soothing drug and sometimes to a dangerous poison.
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The time which we have at our disposal every day is elastic; the passions we feel expand it, those that we inspire contract it, and habit fills up what remains.
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There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we spent with a favorite book
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The world was not created once and for all time for each of us individually. There are added to it in the course of our life things of which we have never had any suspicion.
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The bonds that unite another person to ourselves exist only in our mind. Memory as it grows fainter relaxes them, and notwithstanding the illusion by which we would fain be cheated and with which, out of love, friendship, politeness, deference, duty, we cheat other people, we exist alone. Man is the creature that cannot emerge from himself, that knows his fellows only in himself when he asserts the contrary, he is lying.
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A cathedral, a wave of storm, a dancer's leap, never turn out to be as high as we had hoped.
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If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time.
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A cathedral, a wave of a storm, a dancer's leap, never turn out to be as high as we had hoped
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[The literary figure who looms largest in] False Papers ... perfected a language ... and a vision that gave memory an introspection and aesthetic scope and magnitude no author had conferred on either before. He allowed intimacy itself to become an art form.
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A catherdral, a wave of storm, a dancer's leap, never turn out to be as high as we had hoped.
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The paradoxes of today are the prejudices of tomorrow, since the most benighted and the most deplorable prejudices have had their moment of novelty when fashion lent them its fragile grace.
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The happy man is not he who seems thus to others, but who seems thus to himself.
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As the Arab proverb says, 'The dog barks and the caravan passes'. After having dropped this quotation, Mr. Norpois stopped to judge the effect...
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All our final decisions are made in a state of mind that is not going to last.
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That translucent alabaster of our memories.
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Perhaps it is nothingness which is real and our dream which is non-existent, but then we feel think that these musical phrases, and the notion...
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It is in moments of illness that we are compelled to recognize that we live not alone but chained to a creature of a different kingdom, whole worlds apart, who has no knowledge of us and by whom it is impossible to make ourselves understood: our body.
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We don't receive wisdom we must discover it for ourselves after a journey that no one can take us or spare us.
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