Invaders Always Destroy Libraries.

The Older I Grow The More Sharply I Mistrust Words. So Few Of Them Have Any Meaning Left. It Is Impossible To Write One Sentence In Which Every Word Has The Bareness And Hardness Of Bones, The Reality Of The Skeleton.

In France, Even Heresy Rapidly Hardens Into Dogma.

To Grow Old Is To Have Taken Away, One By One, All Gifts Of Life, The Food And Wine, The Music And The Company. ... The Gods Unloose, One By One, The Mortal Fingers That Cling To The Edge Of The Table.

The Writer - More Especially The Novelist - Who Has Not, At One Moment Or Another, Considered His Publisher Unworthy Of Him, Has Still To Be Conceived.

Jealousy, The Most Hideous Emotion Any Human Being Ever Suffers, Has Nothing To Do With The Mind. Or Not At First.