Serious Literature Does Not Exist To Make

Man Is Profoundly Dependent On The Reflection Of Himself In Another Man's Soul, Be It Even The Soul Of An Idiot.

I Didn't Go To The Lectures. My Valet, Who Was More Distinguished Than I, Went Instead.

Any Artist Who Respects Himself Ought To Be, And In Every Sense Of The Term, An Emigre.

When One Does Not Have What One Wants, One Must Want What One Has”: “i Have Had, You See, To Resort More And More To Very Small, Almost Invisible Pleasures, Little Extras. You've No Idea How Great One Becomes With These Little Details, It's Incredible How One Grows.

A Universal Style Is One That Knows How To Embrace Lovingly Those Not Quite Developed.