I Have Come Too Late Into A

The Only True Language In The World Is A Kiss.

What I Need Is A Woman Who Is Something, Anything: Either Very Beautiful Or Very Kind Or In The Last Resort Very Wicked; Very Witty Or Very Stupid, But Something.

There Is No Worse Sorrow Than Remembering Happiness In The Day Of Sorrow.

If Love Is A Play, This Play, As Old As The World, Fiasco Or Not, It Is, All In All, The Least Bad Thing That Has So Far Been Found. The Roles Are Trite, I Admit, But If The Play Had No Value The Whole Universe Wouldn’t Know It By Heart

Alas, Everything That Men Say To One Another Is Alike; The Ideas They Exchange Are Almost Always The Same, In Their Conversation. But Inside All Those Isolated Machines, What Hidden Recesses, What Secret Compartments! It Is An Entire World That Each One Carries Within Him, An Unknown World That Is Born And Dies In Silence! What Solitudes All These Human Bodies Are!