The Man, The Writer, The

When [man] Is Happy He Takes His Happiness As It Comes And Doesn't Analyze It, Just As If Happiness Were His Right.

In Bed My Real Love Has Always Been The Sleep That Rescued Me By Allowing Me To Dream.

When The Characters Are Really Alive Before Their Author, The Latter Does Nothing But Follow Them In Their Action, In Their Words, In The Situations Which They Suggest To Him.

Every True Man, Sir, Who Is A Little Above The Level Of The Beasts And Plants Does Not Live For The Sake Of Living, Without Knowing How To Live; But He Lives So As To Give A Meaning And A Value Of His Own To Life.

Our Spirits Have Their Own Private Way Of Understanding Each Other, Of Becoming Intimate, While Our External Persons Are Still Trapped In The Commerce Of Ordinary Words, In The Slavery Of Social Rules. Souls Have Their Own Needs And Their Own Ambitions, Which The Body Ignores When It Sees That It's Impossible To Satisfy Them Or Achieve Them.