... forgiveness is a four letter word: Love.

Would you mind repeating that? I'm afraid I might have lost my wits altogether and just hallucinated what I've longed to hear.

This is the only real concern of the artist, to recreate out of the disorder of life that order which is art.

Like instinctively

There was something tragic in a friendship so colored by romance.

The way you spend Christmas is far more important than how much.

At every crossroad, be prepared to bump into wonder.

But your mind is warped by an innate principle of general integrity, and, therefore, not accessible to the cool reasonings of family partiality, or a desire of revenge.

One eventually has enough even of oneself.

I want to be young for the longest time possible.

What is hid is unknown: for what is unknown there is no desire. [Lat., Quod latet ignotum est; ignoti nulla cupido.]