To me, art is not a solitary delight. It is a means of stirring the greatest number of men by providing them with a privileged image of our common joys and woes.

We used to wonder where war lived, what it was that made it so vile. And now we realize that we know where it lives... inside ourselves.

Of course, true love is exceptional - two or three times a century, more or less. The rest of the time there is vanity or boredom.

All I know of morality I learned from football

Indeed, men never know how to love. nothing satisfies them. All they know is to dream, to imagine new duties, to look for new countries and new homes. While we women, we know that we must hasten to love, to share the same bed, hold hands, and fear absence. When we women love, we dream of nothing.

In order to exist just once in the world, it is necessary never again to exist.

All men have a sweetness in their life. That is what helps them go on. It is towards that they turn when they feel too worn out.