I've seen you, beauty, and you belong to me now, whoever you are waiting for and if I never see you again, I thought. You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil.

Home is where the heart is, home is where the fart is. Come let us fart in the home. There is no art in a fart. Still a fart may not be artless. Let us fart and artless fart in the home.

The road to Hell is paved with unbought stuffed dogs.

It is impossible to believe the emotional and spiritual intensity and pure, classic beauty that can be produced by a man, an animal, and a piece of scarlet serge draped over a stick.

Luck is a thing that comes in many forms and who can recognize her?

So far, about morals, I know only that what is moral is what you feel good after and what is immoral is what you feel bad after.

I'm always reading books-as many as there are. I ration myself on them so that I'll always be in supply.