To kill someone, even treacherously is more manly than to wound a friend by betraying his confidence.

And it is true that life lacks the monotony of museums. There come days which seem worthy of being framed, but they are so full of conflicting sounds, of line and color and living, burning light that they never become tedious.

Everyone remembers his past with greater vividness as the present becomes more important. Dying men in their last delirium are supposed to see their whole life spread out before them.

Everyone tends to remember the past with greater fervor as the present gains greater importance.

Tears throw a veil over our faults and allow us to accuse fate without fear or contradiction.

You see things less clearly when you open your eyes too wide.

To kill someone, even treacherously is more manly than to wound a friend by betraying his confidence.