When You Are Forty, Half Of You

Everything Ends This Way In France — Everything. Weddings, Christenings, Duels, Burials, Swindlings, Diplomatic Affairs — Everything Is A Pretext For A Good Dinner.

Beauty, Real Beauty, Is Something Very Grave. If There Is A God, He Must Be Partly That.

Je Sais De Quelles Petitesses Meurent Les Plus Grandes Amours. I Know How Pettiness Ruins The Greatest Loves.

Inspiration Is A Farce That Poets Have Invented To Give Themselves Importance.

We Poison Our Lives With Fear Of Burglary And Shipwreck, And, Ask Anyone, The House Is Never Burgled, And The Ship Never Goes Down.