Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones; and when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace.
Evil. Mistrust those who rejoice at it even more than those who do it.
An invasion of armies can be resisted, but not an idea whose time has come.
Verse in itself does not constitute poetry. Verse is only an elegant vestment for a beautiful form. Poetry can express itself in prose, but it does so more perfectly under the grace and majesty of verse. It is poetry of soul that inspires noble sentiments and noble actions as well as noble writings.
Love that is not jealous is neither true nor pure.
To give thanks in solitude is enough. Thanksgiving has wings and goes where it must go. Your prayer knows much more about it than you do.
What Shakespeare was able to do in English he would certainly not have done in French.
Love, in the eyes of the world, is either a carnal appetite or a vague fancy, which possession extinguishes or absence destroys. That is why it is commonly said, with a strange abuse of words, that passion does not endure.
Nothing else in the world... not all the armies... is so powerful as an idea whose time has come.
A society that admits misery, a humanity that admits war, seem to me an inferior society and a debased humanity; it is a higher society and a more elevated humanity at which I am aiming - a society without kings, a humanity without barriers.
Death has its revelations: the great sorrows which open the heart open the mind as well; light comes to us with our grief. As for me, I have faith; I believe in a future life. How could I do otherwise? My daughter was a soul; I saw this soul. I touched it, so to speak.
There are thoughts which are prayers. There are moments when, whatever the posture of the body, the soul is on its knees.
In the French language, there is a great gulf between prose and poetry; in English, there is hardly any difference. It is a splendid privilege of the great literary languages Greek, Latin, and French that they possess a prose. English has not this privilege. There is no prose in English.
Love is jealous, and ingenious in self-torture in proportion as it is pure and intense.
Thought is more than a right - it is the very breath of man. Whoever fetters thought attacks man himself. To speak, to write, to publish, are things, so far as the right is concerned, absolutely identical. They are the ever-enlarging circles of intelligence in action; they are the sonorous waves of thought.
I would have liked to be - indeed, I should have been - a second Rembrandt.
There are no rules, no models; rather, there are no rules other than the general laws of Nature.
My childhood began, as everybody's childhood begins, with prejudices. Man finds prejudices beside his cradle, puts them from him a little in the course of his career, and often, alas! takes to them again in his old age.
A poet who is a bad man is a degraded being, baser and more culpable than a bad man who is not a poet.
A noble soul and real poetic talent are almost always inseparable.
Every diminution of the liberty of the press is followed by a diminution of civilization. Wherever we see the freedom of the press interfered with, there we see the nutrition of the human family interrupted.
Initiative is doing the right thing without being told.
Love has no middle term; either it destroys, or it saves. All human destiny is this dilemma. This dilemma, destruction or salvation, no fate proposes more inexorably than love. Love is life, if it is not death. Cradle; coffin, too. The same sentiment says yes and no in the human heart. Of all the things God has made, the human heart is the one that sheds most light, and alas! most night.
A translation in verse . . . seems to me something absurd, impossible.
Another story must begin!
The delight we inspire in others has this enchanting peculiarity that, far from being diminished like every other reflection, it returns to us more radiant than ever.
One can resist the invasion of an army but one cannot resist the invasion of ideas.
Perseverance, secret of all triumphs.
There is always more misery among the lower classes than there is humanity in the higher.
What makes night within us may leave stars.
The human soul has still greater need of the ideal than of the real. It is by the real that we exist; it is by the ideal that we live.
The first symptom of true love in a man is timidity, in a young woman, boldness. This is surprising, and yet nothing is more simple. It is the two sexes tending to approach each other and assuming each the other's qualities.
What a grand thing, to be loved! What a grander thing still, to love!
To love another person is to see the face of God.
Man's greatest actions are performed in minor struggles. Life, misfortune, isolation, abandonment and poverty are battlefields which have their heroes - obscure heroes who are at times greater than illustrious heroes.
A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in-what more could he ask? A few flowers at his feet and above him the stars.
The future has several names. For the weak, it is impossible; for the fainthearted, it is unknown; but for the valiant, it is ideal.
Go out in the world and work like money doesn't matter, sing as if no one is listening, love as if you have never been hurt, and dance as if no one is watching.
Forty is the old age of youth; fifty the youth of old age.
Never laugh at those who suffer; suffer sometimes those who laugh.