Every man is made of clay and diamond, and no woman can nourish both.
We should tackle reality in a slightly jokey way, otherwise we miss its point.
The artist's work constitutes the only satisfactory relationship he can have with his fellow men since he seeks his real friends among the dead and the unborn.
The realisation of one's own death is the point at which one becomes adult.
You see, nothing matters except pleasure - which is the opposite of happiness, its tragic part, I expect.
Travel can be one of the most rewarding forms of introspection.