Françoise Sagan

Love lasts about seven years. That's how long it takes for the cells of the body to totally replace themselves.

Summer fell upon Paris, with everyone still intently following his own subterranean course of passion or habit and looking up like a startled creature of the night at the blazing June sun. Now, all of a sudden, there was an impelling necessity to go away, to give a continuation or a meaning to the winter that had just gone by.

There is a certain kind of stupidity reserved for women's dealings with men.