What things there are to write, if one could only write them! My mind is full of gleaming thought; gay moods and mysterious, moth-like meditations hover in my imagination, fanning their painted wings. But always the rarest, those streaked with azure and the deepest crimson, flutter away beyond my reach.

It is a matter of life and death for married people to interrupt each others stories; for it they did not, they would burst.

What I like in a good author is not what he says but what he whispers.

What joy can the years bring half so sweet as the unhappiness they've taken away?

The denunciation of the young is a necessary part of the hygiene of older people, and greatly assists the circulation of the blood.

When elderly invalids meet with fellow-victims of their own ailments, then at last real conversation begins, and life is delicious.

It is through the cracks in our brains that ecstasy creeps in.