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Trotsky rises to give me his hand, then sits at his desk, gently allowing his regard to light on my person.

- Georges Simenon
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Author:
Georges Simenon
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I adore life but I don't fear death. I just prefer to die as late as possible.

The fact that we are I don't know how many millions of people, yet communication, complete communication, is completely impossible between two of those people, is to me one of the biggest tragic themes in the world.

The fact that we are I don't know how many millions of people, yet communication, complete communication, is completely impossible between two of those people, is to me one of the biggest tragic themes in the world.

It was night and I could see a large and calm lake, reflecting the moon. Black mountains rose around it. I arrived from between two of these mountains, I looked at the lake and the moon, and that was it, nothing else happened.

I adore life but I don't fear death. I just prefer to die as late as possible.

It was night and I could see a large and calm lake, reflecting the moon. Black mountains rose around it. I arrived from between two of these mountains, I looked at the lake and the moon, and that was it, nothing else happened.

Writing is not a profession but a vocation of unhappiness.

I have always tried to write in a simple way, using down-to-earth and not abstract words.

It just happened. As though a moment comes when it's both necessary and natural to make a decision that has long since been made.

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Trotsky rises to give me his hand, then sits at his desk, gently allowing his regard to light on my person.

Trotsky rises to give me his hand, then sits at his desk, gently allowing his regard to light on my person.

Trotsky rises to give me his hand, then sits at his desk, gently allowing his regard to light on my person.

Trotsky rises to give me his hand, then sits at his desk, gently allowing his regard to light on my person.

Trotsky rises to give me his hand, then sits at his desk, gently allowing his regard to light on my person.

Trotsky rises to give me his hand, then sits at his desk, gently allowing his regard to light on my person.

Trotsky rises to give me his hand, then sits at his desk, gently allowing his regard to light on my person.

Trotsky rises to give me his hand, then sits at his desk, gently allowing his regard to light on my person.

Trotsky rises to give me his hand, then sits at his desk, gently allowing his regard to light on my person.

Trotsky rises to give me his hand, then sits at his desk, gently allowing his regard to light on my person.

Trotsky rises to give me his hand, then sits at his desk, gently allowing his regard to light on my person.

Trotsky rises to give me his hand, then sits at his desk, gently allowing his regard to light on my person.

Trotsky rises to give me his hand, then sits at his desk, gently allowing his regard to light on my person.

Trotsky rises to give me his hand, then sits at his desk, gently allowing his regard to light on my person.

Trotsky rises to give me his hand, then sits at his desk, gently allowing his regard to light on my person.