Plots and character don't make life. Life is here and now, anytime you say the word, anytime you let her rip.

The tragedy of it is that nobody sees the look of desperation on my face. Thousands and thousands of us, and we're passing one another without a look of recognition.

Life's wildest moment---she kneels on the sidewalk. Everything else she does is lies, lies.

When spring comes to Paris the humblest mortal alive must feel that he dwells in paradise.

I have made a silent compact with myself not to change a line of what I write. I am not interested in perfecting my thoughts, nor my actions.

Confusion is a word we have invented for an order which is not understood.

One thing is certain, that when you die and are resurrected you belong to the earth and whatever is of the earth is yours inalienably. You become an anomaly of nature, a being without shadow; you will never die again but only pass away like the phenomena about you.