“But nowadays my heart is empty and the boxwood has lost its magic scent; yes, absolutely and entirely. The creature that I was no longer exists. When I speak to her she does not understand me; I think of her,… — Julien Green Copy Share Image
“The novelist is like a scout commissioned to go and see what is happening in the depth of the soul. He comes back and… — Julien Green Copy Share Image
Perhaps the greatest consolation of the oppressed is to consider themselves superior to their tyrants. — Julien Green Copy Share Image
I have always thought that by observing things with a great deal of attention you eventually wrest some of their secrets from them, making… — Julien Green Copy Share Image
“It has become somewhat trite, nowadays, to say that after so many years of destruction it is a kind of miracle that Paris is… — Julien Green Copy Share Image
The secret is to write just anything, to dare to write just anything, because when you write just anything, you begin to say what… — Julien Green Copy Share Image
“Sometimes we do things, without thinking, that make no sense to us until much later, and yet appear to have been prompted by the… — Julien Green Copy Share Image
If people only knew what lies at the heart of my novels! What a tumult of desires these carefully written pages conceal! I sometimes… — Julien Green Copy Share Image
“What we give the world, we have borrowed from no one; it is ours. It may be taken from us, stolen from us, but… — Julien Green Copy Share Image
The greatest explorer on this earth never takes voyages as long as those of the man who descends to the depth of his heart. — Julien Green Copy Share Image
“Things we could not tell each other with the width of the Atlantic between us we communicated from heart to heart in those imaginary… — Julien Green Copy Share Image
“I am the road running through Paris," says the Seine. 'I have carried off many images since you were a child and reflected many… — Julien Green Copy Share Image
