For what gives value to travel is fear. It breaks down a kind of inner structure we have. Travel robs us of such refuge. Far from our own people, our own language, stripped of all our props, deprived of our masks (one doesn't know the fare on the streetcars, or anything else), we are completely on the surface of ourselves.

Those who prefer their principles over their happiness, they refuse to be happy outside the conditions they seem to have attached to their happiness.

That must be wonderful; I have no idea of what it means.

I have a very old and very faithful attachment for dogs. I like them because they always forgive.

There is not a single true work of art that has not in the end added to the inner freedom insight and life of each person who has known and loved it.

You know very well that I no longer think. I am far too intelligent for that.

Some cry: 'Love me!!' Others: 'Don't love me!!' But a certain genus, the worst and most unhappy, cries: 'Don't love me and be faithful to me!!'