If what Proust says is true, that happiness is the absence of fever, then I will never know happiness. For I am possessed by a fever for knowledge, experience, and creation.

How well I know with what burning intensity you live. You have experienced many lives already, including several you have shared with me- full rich lives from birth to death, and you just have to have these rest periods in between.

I am not always just living, just following all my fantasies; I come up for air, for understanding.

What I cannot love, I overlook.

At five o'clock Paris always has a current of eroticism in the air.

Luxury is not a necessity to me, but beautiful and good things are.