André Gide

I lost my father before I was twelve years old.

About the middle of June we would start for Fongueusemare, in the neighbourhood of Le Havre, where we used to spend the summer every year at my Uncle Bucolin’s.

Oh, lovely shifts of love, of love’s very excess, by what hidden ways you led us, from laughter to tears, from the most artless joy to the exactions of virtue!

death, on the contrary, is able to bring together – yes, bring together what has been parted in life.’

the École Normale

reading aloud Swinburne’s Triumph of Time, each of us taking a verse by turns.

the more arduous the duty one assumes, the more it educates and uplifts the soul.

Her marriage was to take place in July

Our ambition should lie not in revolt but in service.

which the Temps reviewer has discovered in it