“Everything is an illusion.”

I have encountered in this world riff-raff and good people. I lose. I win. I defend myself when I am attacked. I take when someone has taken from me. But I beg you to believe me; I have never done an act of espionage against France. Never. Never.

My dance is a sacred poem in which each movement is a word and whose every word is underlined by music. The temple in which I dance can be vague or faithfully reproduced, for I am the temple.

I was not content at home. . . I wanted to live like a colorful butterfly in the sun.

Death is nothing, nor life either, for that matter. To die, to sleep, to pass into nothingness, what does it matter? Everything is an illusion.

The dance is a poem of which each movement is a word.

I am a woman who enjoys herself very much; sometimes I lose, sometimes I win.

Religion is a system of wishful illusions together with a disavowal of reality, such as we find nowhere else but in a state of blissful hallucinatory confusion. Religion’s eleventh commandment is “Thou shalt not question.

Crowds create illusions.

The past and future are real illusions, that they exist in the present, which is what there is and all there is.

Nobody should have any illusion about the possibility of gaining military superiority over Russia. We will never allow this to happen.

Time is an illusion.

The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place.

I know fear is an obstacle for some people, but it is an illusion to me. Failure always made me try harder next time.

Growing up is losing some illusions, in order to acquire others.