Author of quotes: Guillaume Musso. Page 2

There are two types of people. Some live, play and die. And there are others who do nothing but try to maintain balance, and so on until the end of their lives. There are actors. And there are tightrope walkers.

It happens that some people like a person for some reason, while others hate him for the same.

You can never give your whole heart away. If you do that, you'll never love another, and that's risky.

Being in despair, Martin now regrets only one thing: Why did he meet love. For what? Because of this, he now does not know how to continue to live. Every day he convinces himself that tomorrow everything will change for the better, time will heal heart wounds. But tomorrow comes, and he sinks even more into despair.

From an early age, beloved heroes often relieved him of suffering, consoled him, saved him from disappointments. They nourished Martin's imagination and sharpened his senses so much that they finally taught him to see life from such an angle that it became whiter or less bearable.

Many believe that the most beautiful love stories cannot last long. If this is true, then fiery kisses are those that did not take place.

I grew up in a shitty neighborhood. Around all the time they were shouting: screams, insults, threats, shots. There was not a single book, except for a magazine with a TV program, and there I never heard Chopin or Beethoven. That's why I liked being around a Parisian who talked to me about Schopenhauer and Mozart, and not about sex, drugs, rap, tattoos and false nails!

Happiness is a soap bubble that changes color like an iris and bursts when touched.

When I started writing, nothing else mattered: I lived in a different world.

I began to have a premonition that the characters in the novel were not made for real life. I knew Billy, her flaws and anxieties, her innocence and vulnerability. In a way, I felt responsible for what happened to her.

I didn't spare Billy in my stories, but it had no effect on me. She was a fictional character, a pure abstraction that existed solely in my imagination and in the imagination of the readers. A heroine whose material existence was reduced to just a few lines printed on slips of paper. And now the creature has risen against its creator!

We have everything to be happy, Tom! Health, youth, exciting work. You can't ruin everything because of a woman. It's too stupid! She doesn't deserve you. Save your sadness until the day when real misfortune knocks at our door.

We are clean, we have earned money in an honest way. We don't carry weapons under our jackets. There is not a drop of blood on our shirts, just as there are no traces of cocaine on our banknotes.

Despite my success and my climb up the social ladder, there was still a fifteen-year-old teenager in me who never left MacArthur Park, with its drug dealers and screaming stairwells. And there was fear everywhere.