To lose the touch of flowers and women's hands is the supreme separation.

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

My life was lucky so that I met, I loved (and disappointed) only outstanding people.

But what are a hundred million deaths? When one has served in a war, one hardly knows what a dead man is, after a while. And since a dead man has no substance unless one has actually seen him dead, a hundred million corpses broadcast through history are no more than a puff of smoke in the imagination.

Have pity, Lord, on those who love and are separated.

We continue to shape our personality all our life. If we knew ourselves perfectly, we should die.

One plays at being immortal and after a few weeks one doesn't even know whether or not one can hang on till the next day.