Tragedy Is Restful: And The

It Is Restful, Tragedy, Because One Knows That There Is No More Lousy Hope Left. You Know You're Caught, Caught At Last Like A Rat With All The World On Its Back. And The Only Thing Left To Do Is Shout - Not Moan, Or Complain, But Yell Out At The Top Of Your Voice Whatever It Was You Had To Say. What You've Never Said Before. What Perhaps You Don't Even Know Till Now.

There Is Love Of Course. And Then There's Life, Its Enemy.

With God, What Is Terrible Is That One Never Knows Whether It's Not Just A Trick Of The Devil.

Everything Ends This Way In France — Everything. Weddings, Christenings, Duels, Burials, Swindlings, Diplomatic Affairs — Everything Is A Pretext For A Good Dinner.

However Tight I Shut My Eyes, There Will Always Be A Stray Dog Somewhere In The World Who'll Stop Me Being Happy.