Man's world is the planet of inexperience.

There are no small parts. Only small actors.

A person finds it distasteful to hear his life recounted with a different interpretation from his own.

She was amazed at the number of years she had spent pursuing one lost moment.

Quien busque infinito, que cierre los ojos.

If you don’t care about the destination, you don’t ask where you’re going.

If hatred strikes you, if you get accused, thrown to the lions, you can expect one of two reactions from people who know you: some of them will join in the kill, the others will discreetly pretend to know nothing, hear nothing, so you can go right on seeing them and talking to them. That second category, discreet and tactful, those are your friends. ‘Friends’ in the modern sense of the term. Listen, Jean-Marc, I’ve known that forever.

What people keep secret is the most common, the most ordinary, the most prevalent thing, the same thing everybody has: the body and its needs, its maladies, its manias – constipation, for instance, or menstruation. We ashamedly conceal these intimate matters not because they are so personal but because, on the contrary, they are so lamentably impersonal.

It’s not your enemies who condemn you to solitude, it’s your friends.

He who gives himself up like a prisoner of war must give up his weapons as well. And deprived in advance of defense against a possible blow, he cannot help wondering when the blow will fall.