The Happiness Of Others Is Never Bearable

I Have Loved To The Point Of Madness; That Which Is Called Madness, That Which To Me, Is The Only Sensible Way To Love.

Marriage? It's Like Asparagus Eaten With Vinaigrette Or Hollandaise, A Matter Of Taste But Of No Importance.

After Proust, There Are Certain Things That Simply Cannot Be Done Again. He Marks Off For You The Boundaries Of Your Talent.

I've Read Proust And Stendhal. That Keeps You In Your Place.

It Amused Me To Think That One Can Tell The Truth When One Is Drunk And Nobody Will Believe It.