Not one of us can lie or pretend. We're all fixed in good faith in a certain concept of ourselves.

In bed my real love has always been the sleep that rescued me by allowing me to dream.

There is someone who is living my life. And I know nothing about him.

We all grasp on to a single idea of ourselves, the way aging people dye their hair. It’s no matter that this dye doesn’t fool you. My lady, you don’t dye your hair to decieve other people, or to fool yourself, but rather to cheat your image in your mirror a little.

I would love to spend all my time writing to you; I'd love to share with you all that goes through my mind, all that weighs on my heart, all that gives air to my soul; phantoms of art, dreams that would be so beautiful if they could come true.

Personally, I don't give a rap for documents; for the truth in my eyes is not in them but in the mind.

When the characters are really alive before their author, the latter does nothing but follow them in their action, in their words, in the situations which they suggest to him.