Happy Birthday, François Mauriac, born 11 October 1885, died 1 September 1970.
- If you would tell me the heart of a man, tell me not what he reads, but what he rereads.
- A writer is essentially a man who does not resign himself to loneliness.
- To love someone is to see a miracle invisible to others.
- For my heroes, wretched as they may be, life is the experience of infinite motion, of an indefinite transcendence of themselves. A humanity which does not doubt that life has a direction and a goal cannot be a humanity in despair.
- Sin is the writer’s element.
- I believe that only poetry counts … A great novelist is first of all a great poet.
- I write whenever it suits me. During a creative period I write every day; a novel should not be interrupted.
- The novelist’s gift consists precisely in his ability to reveal the universality of this narrow world into which we are born, where we have learned to love and to suffer.
- We are, all of us, moulded and remoulded 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 recognise, and which is never exactly what they intended.
- By the time a man notices that he is no longer young, his youth has long since left him.
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