I can only wait for the final amnesia, the one that can erase an entire life.
If the devil were to offer me a resurgence of what is commonly called virility, I'd decline. ''Just keep my liver and lungs in good working order,'' I'd reply, ''so I can go on drinking and smoking!''
Tobacco and alcohol, delicious fathers of abiding friendships and fertile reveries.
The bar... is an exercise in solitude. Above all else, it must be quiet, dark, very comfortable-and, contrary to modern mores, no music of any kind, no matter how faint. In sum, there should be no more than a dozen tables, and a client that doesn't like to talk.
I'm still an atheist, thank God.
Our memory is our coherence, our reason, our feeling, even our action. Without it, we are nothing.
Thank God I'm an atheist.
Frankly, despite my horror of the press, I'd love to rise from the grave every ten years or so and go buy a few newspapers.
If alcohol is queen, then tobacco is her consort. It's a fond companion for all occasions, a loyal friend through fair weather and foul.
I am an atheist, thanks be to God.
Luis Bunuel's two semishort surrealist hand grenades (cowritten in varying degrees with Salvador Dali) make a double bill that can restore your faith in the subversions of youth. Pure Spanish-Parisian piss and vinegar.
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