Artists are the monks of the bourgeois state.

Give me the ready hand rather than the ready tongue.

A man is never completely alone in this world. At the worst, he has the company of a boy, a youth, and by and by a grown man - the one he used to be.

No woman marries for money; they are all clever enough, before marrying a millionaire, to fall in love with him first.

Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things: air, sleep, dreams, sea, the sky - all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it.

Artists are the monks of the bourgeois state.

The slowness of time, for a man who knows nothing will happen, is brutal.