Quotes by François Mauriac

I write whenever it suits me. During a creative period I write every day a novel should not be interrupted.

If you would tell me the heart of a man, tell me not what he reads, but what he rereads.

It never occurs to one to think whether she is pretty or ugly. One just surrenders to her charm.

What a fool she was ever to have imagined that there might be some place in the world where she could sink to the earth with the knowledge that there were people round her who understood, who perhaps even admired and loved her! She was fated to carry loneliness about with her as a leper carries his scabs. No one can do anything for me: no one can do anything against me.

No man can bear a childs cross.

I felt at one and the same time quite close, within reach of my hand, and yet an infinite distance away, an unknown world of goodness. Often Isa had said to me: You, who see nothing but evil.... You, who see evil everywhere.... It was true, and it was not true.

The Ladies of the Sacred Heart hung a thousand veils between their little charges and reality. Thérèse despised them for confounding virtue with ignorance.

The effort of explaining, even of expressing himself, had become, with the years, more and more terrifying to him. Whether from laziness or from inability to find the right words, he had developed almost a passion for silence.

Tell me what you read and Ill tell you who you are is true enough, but Id know you better if you told me what you reread.

She was surprised to find that something from deep down in herself welled into her eyes and burned her cheeks: a few poor tears shed by one who never cried!

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

The really pure in heart know nothing of what goes on around them each day, each night; never realize what poisonous weeds spring up beneath their childish feet.

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? Doesnt it occur to you that the sort of life people like us lead is remarkably like death?