If you want me to believe in God, you must make me touch him. - Denis Diderot

How old the world is! I walk between two eternities... What is my fleeting existence in comparison with that decaying rock, that valley digging its channel ever deeper, that forest that is tottering and those great masses above my head about to fall? I see the marble of tombs crumbling into dust; and yet I don’t want to die!

How did they meet? By chance, like everybody … Where did they come from? From the nearest place. Where were they going? Do we know where we are going?

There is only one passion, the passion for happiness.