Can it be that chance has made me one of those women so immersed in one man that, whether they are barren or not, they carry with them to the grave the shriveled innocence of an old maid?
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My true friends have always given me that supreme proof of devotion, a spontaneous aversion for the man I loved.
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Smokers, male and female, inject and excuse idleness in their lives every time they light a cigarette.
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There are days when solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall.
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It is wise to apply the oil of refined politeness to the mechanisms of friendship.
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The lovesick, the betrayed, and the jealous all smell alike.
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A woman who thinks she is intelligent demands the same rights as man. An intelligent woman gives up.
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And what a delight it is to make friends with someone you have despised.
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Perhaps the only misplaced curiosity is that which persists in trying to find out here, on this side of death, what lies beyond the grave.
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But just as delicate fare does not stop you from craving for saveloys, so tried and exquisite friendship does not take away your taste for something new and dubious.
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No letters after your name are ever going to be a total guarantee of competence any more than they are a guarantee against fraud. Improving competence involves continuing professional development ... That is the really crucial thing, not just passing an examination.
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Girls usually have a paper mâché face on their wedding day.
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On this narrow planet, we have only the choice between two unknown worlds. One of them tempts us --ah! what a dream, to live in that! --the other stifles us at the first breath.
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The woman who thinks she is intelligent demands equal rights with men. A woman who is intelligent does not.
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I love my past, I love my present. I am not ashamed of what I have had, and I am not sad because I no longer have it.
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Look for a long time at what pleases you, and for a longer time at what pains you.
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There are days when solitude, for someone my age, is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall.
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There is no need to waste pity on young girls who are having their moments of disillusionment, for in another moment they will recover their illusion.
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Sincerity is not a spontaneous flower nor is modesty either.
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Writing only leads to more writing.
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It is not a bad thing that children should occasionally, and politely, put parents in their place.
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You must not pity me because my sixtieth year finds me still astonished. To be astonished is one of the surest ways of not growing old too quickly.
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You do not notice changes in what is always before you.
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No temptation can ever be measured by the value of its object.
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It's nothing to be born ugly. Sensibly, the ugly woman comes to terms with her ugliness and exploits it as a grace of nature. To become ugly means the beginning of a calamity, self-willed most of the time.
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The true traveler is he who goes on foot, and even then, he sits down a lot of the time.
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You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm.
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A happy childhood is poor preparation for human contacts.
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I love my past. I love my present. I'm not ashamed of what I've had, and I'm not sad because I have it no longer.
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We only do well the things we like doing.
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