The tragedy is not that love doesn't last. The tragedy is the love that lasts.

Italians are never punctual; the café, the convenient place to wait, absolves them from that. There is no question of hanging about, no looking lost and unwanted or even disreputable, as there is in hotel lobbies or the foyers of restaurants. One just sits and enjoys the scene, and waits.

That was the trouble with experience; it taught you that most people were capable of anything, so that loyalty was never quite on firm ground -- or, rather, became a matter of pardoning offenses instead of denying their existence.

Perhaps if we lived with less physical beauty we would develop our true natures more.

Human beings need unhappiness at least as much as they need happiness.

It's nervous work. The state you need to write in is the state that others are paying large sums of money to get rid of.

It is the impulse of our century, with its nearly religious belief in magnitude, to fling an institution into every void.