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"In the desert you can feel the passage of time. Under the burning of the sun you are on the march towards the evening, towards that cool breeze which will bathe your limbs and wash away all sweat. Under the burning of the sun, men and animals advance towards that great watering place as surely as towards death. . . . And each day looks as beautiful as the roads that lead to the sea."

"Ah! The miracle of a house is not that it shelters or warms you, nor that its walls belong to you. But that it has slowly deposited in us all those stored resources of gentle joy. And that deep within the heart it forms the shadowy range of hills in which our dreams, like spring waters, are born . . . "