An archive of printed words which have somehow struck a chord in me
14 May 2013
All that matters is to hoist one's sails and make for the open sea, avoiding like the plague all those who persuade themselves that they have found what they sought, who cease to move forward, but build their little shelters and compose themselves to slumber.
François Mauriac, Thérèse (Penguin Books, 1959) p. 59
No comments:
Post a Comment