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

Love is worth whatever it costs.

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

He refused categorically all ideas of fidelity or serious commitments. He explained that they were arbitrary and sterile. From anyone else such views would have shocked me, but I knew that in his case they did not exclude tenderness and devotion - feelings which came all the more easily to him since he was determined that they should be transient.

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

Every time I see a film about Joan of Arc I'm convinced she'll get away with it. It's the only way to get through life.

All my life, I will continue obstinately to write about love, solitude and passion among the kind of people I know. The rest don't interest me.