I like to cook; it is, for me, a happy combination of mindlessness and purpose.

My life was incoherent to me. I felt it quivering, spitting out broken teeth.

The language of labels is like paper money, issued irresponsibly, with nothing of intrinsic value behind it, that is, with no effort of the intelligence to see, to really apprehend.

When you read to a child, when you put a book in a child's hands, you are bringing that child news of the infinitely varied nature of life. You are an awakener.

Words are nets through which all truth escapes.

The minute you become conscious that you are doing good, that's the minute you have to stop because from then on it's wrong.

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.