Writing Only Leads To More Writing.

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.

Never Touch A Butterfly's Wing With Your Finger.

I Am Indebted To The Cat For A Particular Kind Of Honorable Deceit, For A Greater Control Over Myself, For A Characteristic Aversion To Brutal Sounds, And For The Need To Keep Silent For Long Periods Of Time.

- And How Time Flies! What, Has It Already Been Twenty Years, Already Forty Years That We Are Together? Why, How Terrible! We Haven't Yet Said All We Wanted To Say To Each Other... May We Have A Little Respite, Or Else May We Be Allowed To Begin All Over Again!

That Lovely Voice; How I Should Weep For Joy If I Could Hear It Now!