A taste older than meat, older than wine. A taste as old as cold water.

All culture corrupts, but French culture corrupts absolutely.

I don’t believe one reads to escape reality. A person reads to confirm a reality he knows is there, but which he has not experienced.

Truth is a matter of direct apprehension-you can't climb a ladder of mental concepts to it.

I have decided to leave Clea’s last letter un-answered. I no longer wish to coerce anyone, to make promises, to think of life in terms of compacts, resolutions, covenants. It will be up to Clea to interpret my silence according to her own needs and desires, to come to me if she has need or not, as the case may be. Does not everything depend on our interpretation of the silence around us?

Journeys, like artists, are born and not made. A thousand differing circumstances contribute to them, few of them willed or determined by the will-whatever we may think.

Who invented the human heart, I wonder? Tell me, and then show me the place where he was hanged.