There is accumulation. There is responsibility. And beyond this there is great unrest.

I'm a novelist, so I can't write about ideas unless they're attached to people.

Most of us remember adolescence as a kind of double negative: no longer allowed to be children, we are not yet capable of being adults.

Love is just a system for getting someone to call you darling after sex.

What makes us want to know the worst? Is it that we tire of preferring to know the best? Does curiosity always hurdle self-interest? Or is it, more simply, that wanting to know the worst is love's favorite perversion.

Paris is certainly one of the most boastful of cities, and you could argue that it has had a lot to boast about: at various times the European centre of power, of civilisation, of the arts, and (self-advertisingly, at least) of love.

Why should anything happen when everything has happened?