All my life, I will continue obstinately to write about love, solitude and passion among the kind of people I know. The rest don't interest me.
I've tried very hard and I've never found any resemblance between the people I know and the people in my novels.
It would be bad form for me to describe people I don't know and don't understand.
No one ever has time to examine himself honestly, and most people look no further than their neighbors' eyes, in which they may see their own reflection.
The happiness of people who are in love and who are loved shows in their faces. They have an expression that's at once very far away and very much part of the present.
no one talks about money more than people who have too much of it ...
People respect unhappiness and find it especially hard to forgive success.
The questions I would have liked to ask people were: ‘Are you in love? What are you reading?
I've often found myself preferring second-rate people to supposedly superior people, simply and solely because of their uncontrollable tendency to bang themselves against the sides of life's vast lampshade like fireflies or moths.