I always like it at a war. There is always the chance that you will get up the next morning and be killed and not have to write.

Everything you have is to give. Thou art a phenomenon of philosophy and an unfortunate man.

Madame, all stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you.

I suppose if a man has something once, always something of it remains.

In the morning there was a big wind blowing and the waves were running high up on the beach and he was awake a long time before he remembered that his heart was broken.

There's no one thing that's true. It's all true.

Life is pain, so live it up while you can.