The True Masters Of The Art Of

Talent Is Like A Faucet, While It Is Open, One Must Write.

All Children Are Sweet At Five. But At Twelve They Begin To Get Silly.

We Poison Our Lives With Fear Of Burglary And Shipwreck, And, Ask Anyone, The House Is Never Burgled, And The Ship Never Goes Down.

Everything Ends This Way In France — Everything. Weddings, Christenings, Duels, Burials, Swindlings, Diplomatic Affairs — Everything Is A Pretext For A Good Dinner.

There Will Always Be A Lost Dog Somewhere That Will Keep Me From Being Happy.