Creating is living doubly. The groping, anxious quest of a Proust, his meticulous collecting of flowers, of wallpapers, and of anxieties, signifies nothing else.

In order to exist, man must rebel, but rebellion must respect the limits that it discovers in itself - limits where minds meet, and in meeting, begin to exist.

It is not true that the heart wears out - but the body creates this illusion.

There are crimes of passion and crimes of logic. The boundary between them is not clearly defined.

The myth of unlimited production brings war in its train as inevitably as clouds announce a storm.

Lying is not only saying what isn't true. It is also, in fact especially, saying more than is true and, in the case of the human heart, saying more than one feels. We all do it, every day, to make life simpler.

That's the way man is, cher monsieur. He has two faces: he can't love without self-love.