An unknown force is calling me Perhaps the voice of that star perched on the last height Perhaps the desire to see the spaces that conceal Europe
[poems are] crystals deposited after the effervescent contact of the spirit with reality. (cristaux deposes apres l'effervescent contact de l'esprit avec la realite)
Rain" Oh amiable rain Washer of trees and roofs who has prepared them for the pink ray of evening ("Poems")
Paris c'est comme une histoire d'amour, on se souvient seulement des beaux jours. (Paris is like a love story, you only remember the sunny days.)
There was no experience, I thought, quite as wonderful as being an American in Paris.
Will you be my friend?” Bertie asked. And then added: “Just for Paris. You don’t have to be my friend forever – just for Paris.
In the history of art there are periods when bread seems so beautiful that it nearly gets into museums.
Novels are fictions and therefore they tell lies, but through those lies every novelist attempts to tell the truth about the world.
Nothing is better for "spiritual advancement" & the detachment of the flesh than a close reading of the "Erotic Dictionary.
They had as good a shot at making it as anyone did, but what if marriage didn't solve anything and didn't save anyone even a little bit? What then?
I love as you come into Paris, you've got the Arch de Triomphe and all that crazy traffic. Then I love the drive from Paris down to Antibes and you veer off east in through the Alps and you come into the south of France on the mountain road as oppose...
When Picasso painted in Paris, was he a Spanish or a French painter? It does not matter, he was Picasso, whatever the influences surrounding him. He simply chose Paris because it was the ideal place for him to sell his creation.
When I was going to Paris for Paris Fashion Week, I'd often walk down the street and go into all the different shops that we didn't necessarily have in the U.K., and Maje was definitely one of the ones that stood out for me.
Maybe I shouldn't scare off my date so quickly by shooting guns and telling stories about vomit, but, hey, the sooner he knows the real me, the better.
Piano Man put up a fight but his resistance was futile. Hell hath no fury like a drunken girl at her bachelorette party in the mood to sing.
I was supposed to stay for 3 months. But I think I always knew I would stay a little longer, despite the crazy Frenchies. Or maybe because of them.
Is it a world in the making that turns as it whistles to the depths of my being It is burning Suppose it were to appear A bleeding rosary at the window a sun setting on the marshlands ("Silver Clasp")
A bouquet yellow like remorse Hurts my view The cage The wheel The vile ennui of all mankind And no one no one to break my chains! ("Outcries")
The man slips along the stoically congealed houses Perpendicular like them A moving ornament Burning fiction His fragility contradicts the duration of his torments
Do you remember the long orphanage of the train stations We crossed cities that turn-tabled all day And vomited at night the sunshine of the day ("The Voyager")
After Paris, Jacksonville has come to be known as the City of Love. Not right after Paris, like number two on the list, but surely Jacksonville would be included on such a list, even if it ranked dead last.
