God is the solitude of men. There was only me: I alone decided to commit Evil; alone, I invented Good. I am the one who cheated, I am the one who performed miracles, I am the one accusing myself today, I alone can absolve myself; me, the man.
We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.
One must not always think that feeling is everything. Art is nothing without form.
When I am silent, I have thunder hidden inside.
Jean Saint-Martin, Théâtre de la Mode, circa 1940’s