Тя все казваше, че кравите са най-щастливите личности на този свят, и си мечтаеше да се пресели в Нормандия, на чист въздух.

I battled my feelings of inferiority bravely, picking out a guest and imagining him floating in the air at the end of a line I held in my hand, with his stiff-legged trousers, his checked vest, and his yellow tie, propelled this way or that with a flick of my hand. It was the first time I had wielded my imagination as a weapon of defense, and nothing ever turned out to be more beneficial to me in this life.

همه نسلها نسل بربادرفته اند.اصلا علامت یک نسل همین است که بر باد رفته است. وقتی آدم این را احساس نکند پیداست کارش پاک خراب است. نسلهایی که بربادرفتگی خود را حس نمیکنند در گه خفه شده اند.

آدم می‌تواند پیر شود و بمیرد یا به مقامات عالی دست یابد، درحالی‌که کودکی در درونش، در تاریکی، شلوار کوتاه به پا، نشسته و مشتاق محبت و توجه است.

The bombs I dropped on Germany between 1940 and 1944 maybe killed a Rilke or a Goethe or a Hölderin in his cradle. And yes, of course, if it had to be done over, I would do it again. Hitler had condemned us to kill. Not even the most just causes are ever innocent.

The gossip that came back to me from fashionable dinners where people pitied poor Romain Gary, who must be a little sad, a little jealous of the meteoric rise in the literary firmament of his cousin Emile Ajar… I’ve had a lot of fun. Good-bye, and thank you.