Self-expression is a hard and selfish thing. It eats everything, even the self. At the end you find you haven't even got a self to express.

They had been corrupted by money, and he had been corrupted by sentiment. Sentiment was the more dangerous, because you couldn’t name its price. A man open to bribes was to be relied upon below a certain figure, but sentiment might uncoil in the heart at a name, a photograph, even a smell remembered.

It is the same in life: sometimes it is more difficult to make a scene than to die.

Cynicism is cheap - you can buy it at any Monoprix store - it's built into all poor-quality goods.

You needn't be so scared. Love doesn't end. Just because we don't see each other.

Death was far more certain than God.

I can't talk you in terms of time --your time and my time are different