We do not pray for immortality, but only not to see our acts and all things stripped suddenly of all their meaning; for then it is the utter emptiness of everything reveals itself.
Once men are caught up in an event, they cease to be afraid. Only the unknown frightens men.
One can be a brother only in something. Where there is no tie that binds men, men are not united but merely lined up.
Of what worth are convictions that bring not suffering?
A civilization is built on what is required of men, not on that which is provided for them.
A civilization is a heritage of beliefs, customs, and knowledge slowly accumulated in the course of centuries, elements difficult at times to justify by logic, but justifying themselves as paths when they lead somewhere, since they open up for man his inner distance.
War is not an adventure. It is a disease. It is like typhus.
The notion of looking on at life has always been hateful to me. What am I if I am not a participant? In order to be, I must participate.
We say nothing essential about the cathedral when we speak of its stones. We say nothing essential about Man when we seek to define him by the qualities of men.
You will have five hundred million little bells, and I shall have five hundred million springs of fresh water...
You risk tears if you let yourself be tamed.
No destiny attacks us from outside. But, within him, man bears his fate and there comes a moment when he knows himself vulnerable; and then, as in a vertigo, blunder upon blunder lures him.
Action and personal happiness have no truck with each other; they are eternally at war.
The strong are strengthened by reverses; the trouble is that the true meaning of events scores next to nothing in the match we play with men. Appearances decide our gains or losses and the points are trumpery. And a mere semblance of defeat may hopelessly checkmate us.
You see, one loves the sunset when one is so sad.
The proof that the little prince existed is that he was charming, that he laughed, and that he was looking for a sheep. If anybody wants a sheep, that is a proof that he exists.
He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man.
One must observe the proper rites.
Living is being born slowly. It would be a little too easy if we could borrow ready-made souls.
Navigating by the compass in a sea of clouds over Spain is all very well, it is very dashing, but – you want to remember that below the sea of clouds lies eternity.