Some Men Like To Make A Little

Listen, My Friend, There Are Two Races Of Beings. The Masses Teeming And Happy - Common Clay, If You Like - Eating, Breeding, Working, Counting Their Pennies; People Who Just Live; Ordinary People; People You Can't Imagine Dead. And Then There Are The Others - The Noble Ones, The Heroes. The Ones You Can Quite Well Imagine Lying Shot, Pale And Tragic; One Minute Triumphant With A Guard Of Honor, And The Next Being Marched Away Between Two Gendarmes

In Your Efforts To Dazzle Us Your Reasoning Has Gone Awry. You Know Very Well That Love Is, Above All, The Gift Of Oneself.

Rien N'est Vrai Que Ce Qu'on Ne Dit Pas. Nothing Is True Except That Which Is Unsaid.

One Can Make One's Life A Complete Misery, Worrying About Burglaries And Shipwrecks, But Ask Anyone, Anyone You Know ... Earth-shattering Disasters And Fabulous Inheritances All Seems To Take Place Exclusively In The Newspapers.

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