I like reality. It tastes like bread.

Nothing is irreparable in politics.

Obligations, hatreds, injuries; what did I expect my memories to be? I was forgetting remorse. Now I have a complete past.

Everything ends this way in France — everything. Weddings, christenings, duels, burials, swindlings, diplomatic affairs — everything is a pretext for a good dinner.

When you are forty, half of you belongs to the past... And when you are seventy, nearly all of you.

Things are beautiful if you love them.

Nobody has a more sacred obligation to obey the law than those who make the law.