Life Is Very Nice, But It Lacks

The Only Immorality Is Not To Do What One Has To Do When One Has To Do It.

Each Of Us Has A Day .. When He Has To Accept, Finally, The Fact That He Is A Man.

Talent Is Like A Faucet, While It Is Open, One Must Write.

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

It Is Restful, Tragedy, Because One Knows That There Is No More Lousy Hope Left. You Know You're Caught, Caught At Last Like A Rat With All The World On Its Back. And The Only Thing Left To Do Is Shout - Not Moan, Or Complain, But Yell Out At The Top Of Your Voice Whatever It Was You Had To Say. What You've Never Said Before. What Perhaps You Don't Even Know Till Now.