Finally, and most of all, words failed him.

Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don't know. I got a telegram from the home: 'Mother deceased. Funeral tomorrow. Faithfully yours.' That doesn't mean anything. Maybe it was yesterday.

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.

There is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide.

Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal.

The principle can be established that for a man who does not cheat what he believes to be true must determine his actions.

History has shown that the less people read, the more books they buy.