I know it's not clothes that make women beautiful or otherwise, nor beauty care, nor expensive creams, nor the distinction of costliness of their finery. I know the problem lies elsewhere. I don't know where. I only know it isn't where women think.

...as long as nothing happens between them, the memory is cursed with what hasn't happened.

When the past is recaptured by the imagination, breath is put back into life.

People come to Paris, to the capital, to give their lives a sense of belonging, of an almost mythical participation in society.

The thing that's between us is fascination, and the fascination resides in our being alike. Whether you're a man or a woman, the fascination resides in finding out that we're alike.

I don't have general views about anything, except social injustice.

She represents the un-vowed aspiration of the male human being, his potential infidelity - and infidelity of a very special kind, which would lead him to the opposite of his wife, to the woman of wax whom he could model at will, make and unmake in any way he wished, even unto death.