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

No one, but no one, ever behaves 'well' in bed unless they love or are loved - two conditions seldom fulfilled.

happiness has always seemed to me a great achievement.

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

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

I dreamt of being a writer once I started to read. I started to write 'Bonjour Tristesse' in bistros around the Sorbonne. I finished it, I sent it to editors. It was accepted.

For what are we looking for if not to please? I do not know if the desire to attract others comes from a superabundance of vitality, possessiveness, or the hidden, unspoken need to be reassured.