No loose fish enters our quiet bay.
The French are a race of individuals. There is no type.
Women love the lie that saves their pride, but never an unflattering truth.
there is no greater fraud or bore than the writer who has acquired the art of saying nothing brilliantly.
The final result of too much routine is death in life.
The only real rival of love is Art, for that in itself is a deep personal passion, its function an act of creation, fed by some mysterious perversion of sex, and demanding all the imagination's activities.