It isn't common sense that is paramount in this world, it's wishful thinking.

I feel sorry for men. They have more problems than women, because they now have to compete with women.

For me writing is a question of finding a certain rhythm. I compare it to the rhythms of jazz.

My love of pleasure seems to be the only consistent side of my character. Is it because I have not read enough?

Marriage? It's like asparagus eaten with vinaigrette or hollandaise, a matter of taste but of no importance.

I've tried very hard and I've never found any resemblance between the people I know and the people in my novels.

For this was the round of love: fear which leads on desire, tenderness and fury, and that brutal anguish which triumphantly follows pleasure.