So we don't believe that life is beautiful because we don't recall it but if we get a whiff of a long-forgotten smell we are suddenly intoxicated and similarly we think we no longer love the dead because we don't remember them but if by chance we come across an old glove we burst into tears.

All our final decisions are made in a state of mind that is not going to last.

A cathedral, a wave of a storm, a dancer's leap, never turn out to be as high as we had hoped.

A fashionable milieu is one in which everybody's opinion is made up of the opinion of all the others. Has everybody a different opinion? Then it is a literary milieu.

Adultery breathes new life into marriages which have been left for dead.

We are ordinarily so indifferent to people that when we have invested one of them with the possibility of giving us joy, or suffering, it seems as if he must belong to some other universe, he is imbued with poetry.

When you work to please others you can't succeed, but the things you do to satisfy yourself stand a chance of catching someone's interest.