There is nothing new in art except talent.

There is nothing more vulgar than a petty bourgeois life with its halfpence, its victuals, its futile talk, and its useless conventional virtue.

Love, friendship and respect do not unite people as much as common hatred for something.

Perhaps the feelings that we experience when we are in love represent a normal state. Being in love shows a person who he should be.

He is no longer a city dweller who has even once in his life caught a ruff or seen how, on clear and cool autumn days, flocks of migrating thrushes drift over a village. Until his death he will be drawn to freedom.

I don’t understand anything about the ballet; all I know is that during the intervals the ballerinas stink like horses.

You only have to start a job of work to realize how few decent, honest folk there are about.