FRANCOIS MAURIAC

I like Germany so much that I want there to be two of them.

Human love is often but the encounter of two weaknesses.

To love someone is to see a miracle invisible to others.

Men resemble great deserted palaces: the owner occupies only a few rooms and has closed-off wings where he never ventures.

Tell me what you read and I'll tell you who you are is true enough, but I'd know you better if you told me what you reread.

Where does discipline end? Where does cruelty begin? Somewhere between these, thousands of children inhabit a voiceless hell.

I love Germany so dearly that I hope there will always be two of them.

The man who partakes in the breaking of the bread dares to build his house on the very core of love. He becomes, as it were, Godlike, but regardless of the strength he derives from it, his free will remains. We are always free to disown this immense grace, to abuse it. The Greatest Love may be betrayed. Fed on the Living Bread, we nevertheless conceal a part of ourselves which longs for swine's food.

We know well only what we are deprived of.

Let us be wary of ready-made ideas about cowardice and courage: the same burden weighs infinitely more heavily on some shoulders than on others.

I love Germany so much I'm glad there are two of them.

The scapegoat has always had the mysterious power of unleashing man's ferocious pleasure in torturing, corrupting, and befouling.

What I fear is not being forgotten after my death, but, rather, not being enough forgotten. As we were saying, it is not our books that survive, but our poor lives that linger in the histories.

It seems that, after nineteen centuries of extraordinary glorification, the small Host for which so many cathedrals have sprung up, the small Host that has rested in millions of breasts and that has found a tabernacle and worshippers even in the desert - it seems that the triumphant Host of Lourdes and the Eucharistic Congresses of Chicago and Carthage remains as unknown, as secret as when it appeared for the first time in a room in Jerusalem. Light is in the world as in the days of St. John the Baptist, and the world does not know it

There is no accident in our choice of reading. All our sources are related.

Being for every man the touchstone of faith and love, the Eucharist, like on the Cross, divided the minds as soon as it was announced... Nothing engages a man as much as does the Eucharist

That is the mystery of grace: it never comes too late.

The grandeur of man lies in song, not in thought.

I write whenever it suits me. During a creative period I write every day; a novel should not be interrupted. When I cease to be carried along, when I no longer feel as though I were taking down dictation, I stop.

The temples of those who deny the Real Presence are like corpses. The Lord was taken away and we do not know where they have laid Him.

Doubt is nothing but a trivial agitation on the surface of the soul, while deep down there is a calm certainty.

No love, no friendship, can cross the path of our destiny without leaving some mark on it forever.

A cemetery saddens us because it is the only place of the world in which we do not meet our dead again.

We are, all of us, molded and remolded by those who have loved us, and though that love may pass, we remain none the less their work--a work that very likely they do not recognize, and which is never exactly what they intended.

If the flame inside you goes out, the souls that are next to you will die of cold.