Do you know because I tell you so, or do you know, do you know.

The earth is the earth as a peasant sees it, the world is the world as a duchess sees it, and anyway a duchess would be nothing if the earth was not there as the peasant sees it.

It is natural to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes to that siren until she allures us to our death.

It takes a heap of loafing to write a book.

In France one must adapt oneself to the fragrance of a urinal.

This is the real thing of disillusion that no one, not any one really is believing, seeing, understanding, thinking anything as you are thinking, believing, seeing, understanding such a thing.

There is no real reality to a really imagined life any more.