“So the more things remained the same, the more they changed after all. Nothing endures. Not love, not a tree, not even a death by violence.”

“So the more things remain the same, the more they change after all—plus c'est la même chose, plus ça change. Nothing endures, not a tree, not love, not even a death by violence.”

“Nothing endures. Not a tree. Not love. Not even death by violence.”

“So the more things stay the same, the more they change after all.”

“But, when nothing subsists of an old past, after the death of people, after the destruction of things, alone, frailer but more enduring, more immaterial, more persistent, more faithful, smell and taste still remain for a long time, like souls, remembering, waiting, hoping, on the ruin of all the rest, bearing without giving way, on their almost impalpable droplet, the immense edifice of memory.”

“Love is like death. It is fulfillment and an evening after which nothing more may follow.”