One Keeps Forgetting Old Age Up To

But What Is The Heart, Madame? It's Worth Less Than People Think. It's Quite Accommodating, It Accepts Anything. You Give It Whatever You Have, It's Not Very Particular. But The Body... Ha! That's Something Else Again! It Has A Cultivated Taste, As They Say, It Knows What It Wants. A Heart Doesn't Choose, And One Always Ends Up By Loving.

To A Poet, Silence Is An Acceptable Response, Even A Flattering One.

The Lovesick, The Betrayed, And The Jealous All Smell Alike.

At Sixty-three Years Of Age, Less A Quarter, One Still Has Plans.

You Must Not Pity Me Because My Sixtieth Year Finds Me Still Astonished. To Be Astonished Is One Of The Surest Ways Of Not Growing Old Too Quickly.