Fashions, being themselves begotten of the desire for change, are quick to change also..

True variety is in that plenitude of real and unexpected elements, in the branch charged with blue flowers thrusting itself, against all expectations….

For a long time I would go to bed early. [Fr., Longtemps, je me suis couche de bonne heure.].

We are able to find everything in our memory, which is like a dispensary or chemical laboratory in which chance steers our hand sometimes to a soothi….

Our words are, as a general rule, filled by the people to whom we address them with a meaning which those people derive from their own substance, a m….

According to a charming law of nature which is evident even in the most sophisticated societies, we live in complete ignorance of whatever we love..

In a separation it is the one who is not really in love who says the more tender things..

After a certain age, the more one becomes oneself, the more obvious one's family traits become..

So long as I know what's boiling in my pot I don't bother my head about what's in other people's..

For women who do not love us, as for the "disappeared", knowing that we no longer have any hope does not prevent us form continuing to wait. We live ….

I shall not find a painting more beautiful because the artist has painted a hawthorn in the foreground, though I know of nothing more beautiful than ….

Photography is the product of complete alienation..

Time passes, and little by little everything that we have spoken in falsehood becomes true..

I had long since given up trying to extract from a woman as it were the square root of her unknown quantity, the mystery of which a mere introduction….

Death is in truth an illness from which we recover.

No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thin….

A woman whom we need and who makes us suffer elicits from us a whole gamut of feelings far more profound and vital than a man of genius who interests….

Dear Friend: I have nearly died three times since morning..

When from a long distant past nothing subsists after the things are broken and scattered, the smell and taste of things remain..

No exile at the South Pole or on the summit of Mont Blanc separates us more effectively from others than the practice of a hidden vice..

On devient moral de' s qu'on est malheureux. We become moral once we are miserable..