It isn't common sense that is paramount in this world, it's wishful thinking.
I was thinking that I should be content to kiss him until the break of day. Bertrand ran out of kisses too soon; desire made them superfluous in his eyes. They were only a stage on the road to pleasure, not something inexhaustible and self-sufficient, as Luc had revealed them to me.
When you make a decision to write according to a set schedule and really stick to it, you find yourself writing very fast. At least I do.
The happiness of people who are in love and who are loved shows in their faces. They have an expression that's at once very far away and very much part of the present.
One partner is always more in love than the other.
Unhappiness has nothing to teach, and resignation is ugly.
Every time I see a film about Joan of Arc I'm convinced she'll get away with it. It's the only way to get through life.
What you call types of mind are only mental ages.
A love affair based on jealousy is doomed from the start ... It is certanly a sign of love, but it's a sign that it's already dying.
I've often found myself preferring second-rate people to supposedly superior people, simply and solely because of their uncontrollable tendency to bang themselves against the sides of life's vast lampshade like fireflies or moths.
pity is an agreeable sentiment, uplifting like military music.
All my life, I will continue obstinately to write about love, solitude and passion among the kind of people I know. The rest don't interest me.
People respect unhappiness and find it especially hard to forgive success.
No one, but no one, ever behaves 'well' in bed unless they love or are loved - two conditions seldom fulfilled.
Life has confirmed for me the thoughts and impressions I had when I was 18, as if it was all intuition.
No one talks about money more than people who have too much of it.
Only by pursuing the extremes in one's nature, with all its contradictions, appetites, aversions, rages, can one hope to understand a little - oh, I admit only a very little - of what life is about.
I had a strong desire to write and some free time.
There are moments when you feel trapped, ill at ease. A year later the same feeling can turn out to be the theme of a book.
My love of pleasure seems to be the only consistent side of my character. Is it because I have not read enough?
Writing is a question of finding a certain rhythm. I compare it to the rhythms of jazz. Much of the time life is a sort of rhythmic progression of three characters. If one tells oneself that life is like that, one feels it less arbitrary.
It would be bad form for me to describe people I don't know and don't understand.
He lifted me up and held me close against him, my head on his shoulder. At that moment I loved him. In the morning light he was as golden, as soft, as gentle as myself, and he would protect me.
I've read Proust and Stendhal. That keeps you in your place.
I found myself both touched and irritated by the discovery that she was vulnerable.
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