there's something about Paris that gives you a mental slap all the time, and you can't just sit still and do nothing. You've got to work, to keep up with the pace, the sting in the atmosphere.

A bad workman blames his tools.

How simple life becomes when things like mirrors are forgotten.

A familiar name on its own, however, does not carry its bearer far unless the talent is there, and the will to work.

I wish I was a woman of about thirty-six dressed in black satin with a string of pearls.

Life and death do not wait for legal action.

We know one another. This is the present. There is no past and no future. Here I am washing my hands, and the cracked mirror shows me to myself, suspended as it were, in time; this is me, this moment will not pass.