I wonder how anyone can have the face to condemn others when he reflects upon his own thoughts.

If people waited to know one another before they married, the world wouldn't be as overpopulated as it is now.

Writing is the supreme solace.

It is salutary to train oneself to be no more affected by censure than by praise.

The Riviera isn't only a sunny place for shady people.

When she liked anyone it was quite natural for her to go to bed with him. She never thought twice about it. It was not vice; it wasn't lasciviousness; it was her nature. She gave herself as naturally as the sun gives heat or the flowers their perfume. It was a pleasure to her and she liked to give pleasure to others.

There are times when I look over the various parts of my character with perplexity. I recognize that I am made up of several persons and that the person that at the moment has the upper hand will inevitably give place to another. But which is the real one? All of them or none?