The cat is the animal to whom the Creator gave the biggest eye, the softest fur, the most supremely delicate nostrils, a mobile ear, an unrivaled paw and a curved claw borrowed from the rose-tree.

How do you like them? like a pear, a lemon, a la Montgolfier, half an apple, or a cantaloupe? Go and choose, don't be embarrassed.

By associating with the cat one only risks becoming richer.

That provisional tomb where the living exile sighs, weeps, fights and succumbs, and is born again, remembering nothing, with the day

The writer who loses his self-doubt, who gives way as he grows old to a sudden euphoria, to prolixity, should stop writing immediately: the time has come for him to lay aside his pen.

We don't feel at ease here: we are surrounded by too much beauty

Who said you should be happy? Do your work

My cat does not talk as respectfully to me as I do to her.

Look for a long time at what pleases you, and for a longer time at what pains you

For to dream and then to return to reality only means that our qualms suffer a change of place and significance