Frankly, despite my horror of the press, I'd love to rise from the grave every ten years or so and go buy a few newspapers.

If the devil were to offer me a resurgence of what is commonly called virility, I'd decline. ''Just keep my liver and lungs in good working order,'' I'd reply, ''so I can go on drinking and smoking!''

The decline of the aperitif may well be one of the most depressing phenomena of our time.

If someone were to tell me I had twenty years left, and ask me how I'd like to spend them, I'd reply 'Give me two hours a day of activity, and I'll take the other twenty-two in dreams.'

Our memory is our coherence, our reason, our feeling, even our action. Without it, we are nothing.

I'm still an atheist, thank God.

Salvador Dalí seduced many ladies, particularly American ladies, but these seductions usually consisted of stripping them naked in his apartment, frying a couple of eggs, putting them on the woman's shoulders and, without a word, showing them the door.