Old age is an insult. It's like being smacked.
Perhaps our only sickness is to desire a truth which we cannot bear rather than to rest content with the fictions we manufacture out of each other.
The richest love is that which submits to the arbitration of time.
There are only three things to be done with a woman. You can love her, suffer for her, or turn her into literature.
Travel can be one of the most rewarding forms of introspection.
Truth disappears with the telling of it.
We are the children of our landscape; it dictates behavior and even thought in the measure to which we are responsive to it.
Our inventions mirror our secret wishes.
Music is only love looking for words.