The Best Way To Fill Time Is

People Come To Paris, To The Capital, To Give Their Lives A Sense Of Belonging, Of An Almost Mythical Participation In Society.

Finding Yourself In A Hole, At The Bottom Of A Hole, In Almost Total Solitude, And Discovering That Only Writing Can Save You. To Be Without The Slightest Subject For A Book, The Slightest Idea For A Book, Is To Find Yourself, Once Again, Before A Book. A Vast Emptiness. A Possible Book. Before Nothing. Before Something Like Living, Naked Writing, Like Something Terrible, Terrible To Overcome.

That She Had So Completely Recovered Her Sanity Was A Source Of Sadness To Her. One Should Never Be Cured Of One's Passion.

In Heterosexual Love There's No Solution. Man And Woman Are Irreconcilable, And It's The Doomed Attempt To Do The Impossible, Repeated In Each New Affair, That Lends Heterosexual Love Its Grandeur.

Fidelity, Enforced And Unto Death, Is The Price You Pay For The Kind Of Love You Never Want To Give Up, For Someone You Want To Hold Forever, Tighter And Tighter, Whether He's Close Or Far Away, Someone Who Becomes Dearer To You The More You've Sacrificed For His Sake.