At first, when an idea, a poem, or the desire to write takes hold of you, work is a pleasure, a delight, and your enthusiasm knows no bounds. But later on you work with difficulty, doggedly, desperately. For once you have committed yourself to a particular work, inspiration changes its form and becomes an obsession, like a love-affair… which haunts you night and day! Once at grips with a work, we must master it completely before we can recover our idleness.

I am not a bibliophile but a humanophile: I look for rare human beings.

I judge people's charm by the ease with which I express myself in their presence.

Would that well-thinking people should be replaced by thinking ones.

Novels are longer than life.

Eternity: what a waste of time.

I love the love of those who are far enough away, it becomes whatever I wish to believe it.