The Joy Of The Young Is To

The Only Way To Kill Death Is Through Photography.

We Shelter An Angel Within Us. We Must Be The Guardians Of That Angel.

Commissions Suit Me. They Set Limits. Jean Marais Dared Me To Write Play In Which He Would Not Speak In The First Act, Would Weep For Joy In The Second And In The Last Would Fall Backward Down A Flight Of Stairs.

French People Are Italian People In A Bad Mood.

Elegance Ceases To Exist When It Is Noticed.