The brightest light, the light of Italy, the purest sky of Scandinavia in the month of June is only a half-light when one compares it to the light of childhood. Even the nights were blue.

DAISY: I never knew you were such a realist-I thought you were more poetic. Where's your imagination? There are many sides to reality. Choose the one that's best for you. Escape into the world of imagination.

A really conscientious doctor ought to die with his patient. The captain goes down with his ship.

We are all looking for something of extraordinary importance whose nature we have forgotten; I am writing the memoirs of a man who has lost his memory.

People who don't read are brutes. It is better to write than to make war, isn't it?

There are more dead people than living. And their numbers are increasing. The living are getting rarer.

Boredom flourishes too, when you feel safe. It's a symptom of security.