Artists are the monks of the bourgeois state.

The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.

One does not kill oneself for love of a woman, but because love - any love - reveals us in our nakedness, our misery, our vulnerability, our nothingness.

Living is like working out a long addition sum, and if you make a mistake in the first two totals you will never find the right answer. It means involving oneself in a complicated chain of circumstances.

All sins have their origin in a sense of inferiority otherwise called ambition.