On a cold winter morning a cigar fortifies the soul.
A good book is an event in my life.
The more one pleases everybody, the less one pleases profoundly.
I no longer find such pleasure in that preeminently good society, of which I was once so fond. It seems to me that beneath a cloak of clever talk it proscribes all energy, all originality. If you are not a copy, people accuse you of being ill-mannered.
Our true passions are selfish.
I see but one rule: to be clear.