The writer who loses his self-doubt, who gives way as he grows old to a sudden euphoria, to prolixity, should stop writing immediately: the time has come for him to lay aside his pen.

There are days when solitude, for someone my age, is a heady wine which intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall.

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There is no need to waste pity on young girls who are having their moments of disillusionment,

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There is nothing that gives more assurance than a mask.

To a poet, silence is an acceptable response, even a flattering one.

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Total absence of humor renders life impossible.

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We only do well the things we like doing.

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What a delight it is to make friends with someone you have despised!

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What a wonderful life I've had! I only wish I'd realized it sooner.

When one can read, can penetrate the enchanted realm of books, why write?

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