Love lasts about seven years. That's how long it takes for the cells of the body to totally replace themselves.

If you don't have imagination you're lost. But it's a virtue that's becoming increasingly rare, especially in its higher form: spontaneity. Mad, happy spontaneity.

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

I did not find him absurd. I saw he was kind, that he was on the verge of real love. I thought it would be nice for me to be in love with him, too.

Unhappiness has nothing to teach, and resignation is ugly.

Whisky, gambling and Ferraris are better than housework.

I recognize limitations in the sense that I've read Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky and Shakespeare . . . Aside from that I don't think of limiting myself.