In the next few years the struggle will not be between utopia and reality, but between different utopias, each trying to impose itself on reality ... we can no longer hope to save everything, but ... we can at least try to save lives, so that some kind of future, if perhaps not the ideal one, will remain possible.

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.

Friendship is not so simple. It is hard to get and takes a long time, but when one ha it one cannot get rid of it, one has to face it.

A true masterpiece does not tell everything.

The world is never quiet, even its silence eternally resounds with the same notes, in vibrations which escape our ears. As for those that we perceive, they carry sounds to us, occasionally a chord, never a melody.

Old women even forget how to love their sons. The heart gets worn out, Monsieur.

There may be responsible persons, but there are no guilty ones.