It is not Justice the servant of men, but accident, hazard, Fortune-the ally of patient Time-that holds an even and scrupulous balance.

I don't like work... but I like what is in work - the chance to find yourself. Your own reality - for yourself, not for others - which no other man can ever know.

You can't, in sound morals, condemn a man for taking care of his own integrity. It is his clear duty.

One wonders that there can be found a man courageous enough to occupy the post. It is a matter of meditation. Having given it a few minutes I come to the conclusion in the serenity of my heart and the peace of my conscience that he must be either an extreme megalomaniac or an utterly unconscious being.

I saw him open his mouth wide. . . as though he had wanted to swallow all the air, all the earth, all the men before him.

The mind of man is capable of anything--because everything is in it, all the past as well as all the future. What was there after all? Joy, fear, sorrow, devotion, valor, rage--who can tell?--but truth--truth stripped of its cloak of time.

I remember my youth... the feeling that I could last forever, outlast the sea, the earth, and all men.

An artist is a man of action, whether he creates a personality, invents an expedient, or finds the issue of a complicated situation.

A man's most open actions have a secret side to them.