The truth is cruel, but it can be loved, and it makes free those who…

The human race, in its intellectual life, is organized like the bees: the masculine soul is a worker, sexually atrophied, and essentially dedicated to impersonal and universal arts; the feminine is a queen, infinitely fertile, omnipresent …

Beauty is a pledge of the possible conformity between the soul and nature, and consequently a ground of faith in the supremacy of the good.

The highest form of vanity is love of fame.

Theory helps us to bear our ignorance of fact.

Beauty as we feel it is something indescribable: what it is or what it means can never be said.

To call war the soil of courage and virtue is like calling debauchery the soil of love.