When you want to believe in something, you also have to believe in everything that's necessary for believing in it.

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

Thought itself needs words. It runs on them like a long wire. And if it loses the habit of words, little by little it becomes shapeless, somber.

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

It so difficult to know what the people we love really need.

This free will business is a bit terrifying anyway. It's almost pleasanter to obey, and make the most of it.

All of us are mad. If it weren't for the fact that every one of us is slightly abnormal, there wouldn't be any point in giving each person a separate name.