“What an odd creature you are, Bernard, with your constant fear of death! Do you never have a feeling, as I do, of utter futility? No? Doesn't it occur to you that the sort of life people like us lead… — François Mauriac Copy Share Image
A good critic is the sorcerer who makes some hidden spring gush forth unexpectedly under our feet. — Francois Mauriac Copy Share Image
“The really pure in heart know nothing of what goes on around them each day, each night; never realize what poisonous weeds spring up… — François Mauriac Copy Share Image
The Eucharist engages us unreservedly; it is a pact of love, an alliance signed in the deeper recesses of our being. All our potentialities… — Francois Mauriac Copy Share Image
A cemetery saddens us because it is the only place of the world in which we do not meet our dead again. — Francois Mauriac Copy Share Image
Men resemble great deserted palaces: the owner occupies only a few rooms and has closed-off wings where he never ventures. — Francois Mauriac Copy Share Image
Did you ever have a conversation with someone who misunderstood everything you had to say? It's exhausting, and the ironic part is that the… — Francois Mauriac Copy Share Image
“We are, all of us, molded and re-molded by those who have loved us, and though that love may pass, we remain nonetheless their… — François Mauriac Copy Share Image
I believe that only poetry counts ... A great novelist is first of all a great poet. — Francois Mauriac Copy Share Image
If the flame inside you goes out, the souls that are next to you will die of cold. — Francois Mauriac Copy Share Image
What I fear is not being forgotten after my death, but, rather, not being enough forgotten. As we were saying, it is not our… — Francois Mauriac Copy Share Image
“What a fool she was ever to have imagined that there might be some place in the world where she could sink to the… — François Mauriac Copy Share Image
It seems that, after nineteen centuries of extraordinary glorification, the small Host for which so many cathedrals have sprung up, the small Host that… — Francois Mauriac Copy Share Image
