Nature is honest, we aren't; we embalm our dead.

The first temptation, upon meeting an old friend after many years, is always to - look the other way.

The spontaneity of slaps is sincerity, whereas the ceremonial of caresses is largely convention.

A vague uneasiness: the police. It's like when you suddenly understand you have to undress in front of the doctor.

There is no forgiveness in nature.

If we have anything kind to say, any tender sentiment to express, we feel a sense of shame.

We know well enough when we're being unjust and despicable. but we don't restrain ourselves because we experience a certain pleasure, a primitive sort of satisfaction in moments like that.