You'll see some bad things, but if you didn't see them, they'd still be happening.

Words are nets through which all truth escapes.

People steal into one's consciousness and occupy what seems, in retrospect, to have been their place all along.

When I had a few francs, I spent them at a café on the Place de Longchamps, a block or so from my pension, where I could order a glass of Beaujolais and a plate of string beans in vinaigrette for the equivalent of fifteen cents.

My first job was working in a dress shop in Los Angeles in 1940, for $7 a week.

The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will end one day. And we don't know when that one-day will be. So please, tell the people you love and care for that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late.

A lie hides the truth. A story tries to find it.