She was a diminutive, withered up old woman of sixty, with sharp malignant eyes and a sharp little nose.

The world stands on absurdities, and without them perhaps nothing at all would happen.

In fact, I believe that the best definition of man is the ungrateful biped. But that is not all, that is not his worst defect; his worst defect is his perpetual moral obliquity...

Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.

She'll come, if not today, then tomorrow, but she'll find me. That's the cursed romanticism of all these pure hearts! Oh the vileness, oh the stupidity, oh the narrowness, of these rotten, sentimental souls.

We don't understand that life is heaven, for we have only to understand that and it will at once be fulfilled in all its beauty, we shall embrace each other and weep.

It's the moon that makes it so still, weaving some mystery.