For the first time in a long time I thought about Maman. I felt as if I understood why at the end of her life she had taken a 'fiancé,' why she had played at beginning again. Even there, in that home where lives were fading out, evening was a kind of wistful respite. So close to death, Maman must have felt free then and ready to live it all again. Nobody, nobody had the right to cry over her. And I felt ready to live it all again too.

Where there is no hope, it is incumbent on us to invent it.

If the only significant history of human thought were to be written, it would have to be the history of its successive regrets and its impotences.

Life is the result of all your choices.

The Four Conditions of Happiness: Life in the open air, Love for another being,Freedom from ambition,Creation

Yes, I'm happy, in human terms.

Everybody knows that pestilences have a way of recurring in the world; yet somehow we find it hard to believe in ones that crash down on our heads from a blue sky.