Man is always prey to his truths. Once he has admitted them, he cannot free himself from them.

For those of us who have been thrown into hell, mysterious melodies and the torturing images of a vanished beauty will always bring us, in the midst of crime and folly, the echo of that harmonious insurrection which bears witness, throughout the centuries, to the greatness of humanity.

Somebody has to have the last word. If not, every argument could be opposed by another and we'd never be done with it.

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

I was comfortable in all, I admit, but at the same time, nothing satisfied me. Each joy made me seek another.

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.

You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.