If there is a God, atheism must seem to Him as less of an insult than religion.
Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists. When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence.
A poet is a man who puts up a ladder to a star and climbs it while playing a violin.
Surely nothing has to listen to so many stupid remarks as a painting in a museum.