Death has to be waiting at the end of the ride before you truly see the earth, and feel your heart, and love the world.

Listen, my friend, there are two races of beings. The masses teeming and happy - common clay, if you like - eating, breeding, working, counting their pennies; people who just live; ordinary people; people you can't imagine dead. And then there are the others - the noble ones, the heroes. The ones you can quite well imagine lying shot, pale and tragic; one minute triumphant with a guard of honor, and the next being marched away between two gendarmes

Life is very nice, but it has no shape. The object of art is actually to give it some and to do it by every artifice possible-truer than the truth.

The object of art is to give life shape.

Oh, love is real enough; you will find it someday, but it has one archenemy - and that is life.

The true masters of the art of living are already happy.

An ugly sight, a man who is afraid.