I hover on its outskirts, moved to tears by its prayers, touched to the very marrow by its psalms and chants.
My satisfaction and my pleasure will come from making you feel things. Things that many of my wise colleagues do not feel anymore.
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth bringsThat then I scorn to change my state with kings.
hated by the people, as the wolf by the dogs
Ease would recantVows made in pain, as violent and void.
The far-flung worldhas put aside its rages for sleep.Only I am awake
Bring me my Bow of burning gold: Bring me my Arrows of desire: Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold! Bring me my Chariot of fire
Today, now that the great storm has long since smashed it, we finally know that that world of security was naught but a castle of dreams; my parents lived in it as if it had been a house of stone
we surrender ourselves to it, but only for a moment
I have fought a hundred battles for France, and not one against her
We are the little girl in this story, and we are trying to deal with our pain by finding new religious reasons to darn socks.
empty-handed I entered the worldbarefoot I leave it.
It is a new west that we envisage: One that, we may hope, has learnt some thing from its recent gigantic reverses.
without counting or calculation
I have every reason to fear that this book will strike the reader as 'very French'
dogs and philosophers do the greatest good and get the least reward
The objection is of the same kind as Zeno's paradoxes: they are overcome by the act of movement
The unity he is talking about is a unity of coexistence, like that of the sections of an arch which shoulder one another
revolutions begin by encasing reality in Newspeak, and thereafter are haunted by the fear that reality will break out of its case
