I was thinking that I should be content to kiss him until the break of day. Bertrand ran out of kisses too soon; desire made them superfluous in his eyes. They were only a stage on the road to pleasure, not something inexhaustible and self-sufficient, as Luc had revealed them to me.

What you call types of mind are only mental ages.

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 found myself both touched and irritated by the discovery that she was vulnerable.

Jazz music is an intensified feeling of nonchalance.

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