The Realisation Of One's Own Death Is

Journeys, Like Artists, Are Born And Not Made. A Thousand Differing Circumstances Contribute To Them, Few Of Them Willed Or Determined By The Will-whatever We May Think.

After All The Work Of The Philosophers On His Soul And The Doctors On His Body, What Can We Really Say We Know About A Man? That He Is, When All Is Said And Done, Just A Passage For Liquids And Solids, A Pipe Of Flesh.

Life Is Like A Cucumber. One Minute It's In Your Hand, The Next It's Up You Ass.

All Culture Corrupts, But French Culture Corrupts Absolutely.

No One Can Go On Being A Rebel Too Long Without Turning Into An Autocrat.