If my Valentine you won't be, I'll hang myself on your Christmas tree.
The world is a fine place and worth the fighting for and I hate very much to leave it.
You don't have to destroy me. Do you? I'm only a woman who loves you and wants to do what you want to do. I've been destroyed two or three times already. You wouldn't want to destroy me again, would you?
Why must all of the operations in life be performed without an anesthetic?
That every day should be a fiesta seemed to me a wonderful discovery.
Having books published is very destructive to writing. It is even worse than making love too much. Because when you make love too much at least you get a damned clarte that is like no other light. A very clear and hollow light.