She wanted to die, but she also wanted to live in Paris.

You must write for yourself, above all. That is your only hope of creating something beautiful.

I have come to have the firm conviction that vanity is the basis of everything, and finally that what one calls conscience is only inner vanity.

The better a work is, the more it attracts criticism; it is like the fleas who rush to jump on white linens.

One mustn't ask apple trees for oranges, France for sun, women for love, life for happiness.

What an elder sees sitting; the young can't see standing.