Girl with a pearl necklace

Love never dies of a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source, it dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illnesses and wounds, it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings, but never of natural death. Every lover could be brought to trial as the murderer of his own love. When something hurts you, saddens you, I rush to avoid it, to alter it, to feel as you do, but you turn away with a gesture of impatience and say: “I don’t understand.”

“Believe me, what you want is someone to have dinner with. Sleep with from time to time, telephone every day or write. It’s what you set up that is defeating. Make it very modest. And give yourself permission to make a few mistakes. You know, blow it a bit. Have a few drinks and fall into bed with somebody. It doesn’t have to be the final thing.”

“The literal meaning of life is whatever you're doing that prevents you from killing yourself”

There is a life and there is a death, and there are beauty and melancholy between.

“Ah! I’m suffocating from this longing I have for you.”