People. You must love people. Men are admirable. I wantto vomit—and suddenly, there it is: the Nausea

My odd feelings of the other week seem to me quite ridiculous today: I can no longer enter into them.

This instant which I cannot leave, which locks me in and limits me on every side, this instant I am made of will be no more than a confused dream.

After all, she is lucky. I have been much too calm these past three years. I can receive nothing more from these tragic solitudes than a little empty purity. I leave.

Perhaps it was a passing moment of madness after all. There is no trace of it any more. My odd feelings of the other week seem to me quite ridiculous today: I can no longer enter into them.

So you realized that there were always women in tears, or a red-headed man, or something else to spoil your effects?""Yes, naturally.

A little more and I would have fallen into the mirror trap. I avoided it, but only to fall into the window trap: with nothing to do, my arms dangling, I go over to the window.

I see the insipid flesh blossoming and palpitating with abandon.

He takes a few dazed steps, the waiters turn out the lights and he slips into unconsciousness: when this man is lonely he sleeps.

In any story where solutions to mysteries are found, there should always be at least one mystery which remains unsolved.

It’s what happens when you shoot someone, ” Wayne pointed out. “At least, usually someone has the good sense to get dead when you go to all the trouble to shoot them.

Producing is a thankless task akin to hotel management. Unfortunately there are not too many good hotel managers.

When I write a note, it sticks in my head differently.

Donald Trump is a person who is an insecure money-grubber who cares about nothing but himself.

Things are no longer what they seem to be. My telephones are haunted, and animals whisper at me from unseen places.

Got more milky syllables than alphabet cereals.

You know, sometimes when you're too close to someone, it's hard to see who they really are.

No book includes the entire world. It's limited. And so it doesn't seem like an aesthetic compromise to have to do that. There's so much other material to write about.

Without vanity, without coquetry, without curiosity, in a word, without the fall, woman would not be woman. Much of her grace is in her frailty.