On Good Days, If You Trust Life,

At That Moment He Knew What His Mother Was Thinking, And That She Loved Him. But He Knew, Too, That To Love Someone Means Relatively Little; Or, Rather, That Love Is Never Strong Enough To Find The Words Befitting It. Thus He And His Mother Would Always Love Each Other Silently. And One Day She--or He--would Die, Without Ever, All Their Lives Long, Having Gone Farther Than This By Way Of Making Their Affection Known.

To Be Famous, In Fact, One Has Only To Kill One's Landlady.

Old Women Even Forget How To Love Their Sons. The Heart Gets Worn Out, Monsieur.

My Life Was Lucky So That I Met, I Loved (and Disappointed) Only Outstanding People.

It Is Natural To Give A Clear View Of The World After Accepting The Idea That It Must Be Clear.