In France, Even Heresy Rapidly Hardens Into

No Form Of Art Repeats Or Imitates Successfully All That Can Be Said By Another; The Writer Conveys His Experience Of Life Along A Channel Of Communication Closed To Painter, Mathematician, Musician, Film-maker.

The Gesture With Which One Generation Guards The Next Is The Movement, And The Only Time We See It Clearly, Of Life Itself.

The Least Stupid Question A Man Asks In His Lifetime Is Not: Is There A God And Is He A God Or A Devil? But: Brother, Why Are You Killing Me?

There Is As Much Vanity In Self-scourgings As In Self-justification.

There Is Only One World; The World Pressing Against You At This Minute. There Is Only One Minute In Which You Are Alive; This Minute Here And Now. The Only Way To Live Is By Accepting Each Minute As An Unrepeatable Miracle.