In most women's lives, everything, even the greatest sorrow, comes down to a question of 'I haven't got a thing to wear'. - Marcel Proust

I put down my cup and examine my own mind. It is for it to discover the truth. But how? What an abyss of uncertainty whenever the mind feels that some part of it has strayed beyond its own borders; when it, the seeker, is at once the dark region through which it must go seeking, where all its equipment will avail it nothing. Seek? More than that: create. It is face to face with something which does not so far exist, to which it alone can give reality and substance, which it alone can bring into the light of day.

Adultery breathes new life into marriages which have been left for dead.

Love is not vain because it is frustrated, but because it is fulfilled. The people we love turn to ashes when we posess them.