« Love is a flight from the intimate essence of one being to another. It can be a beautiful thing when this flight is reciprocal and the losses of one being compensate with what it receives from the other. It is then a sublime mixture, a fantastic alchemy. But before that is this, it is a terrifying abandonment, the confession of the most complete and devastating of addictions. Love is an admission of weakness, the silent proclamation or, on the contrary, full voice of the incompleteness of one's own existence and of the compelling need to find a complement to it. »

« Offering a book means sharing a piece of the universe, offering the keys to a secret garden where you know you have been moved and others can be moved. »

« In the middle of the vast room plunged into voluptuous darkness was a black-woolly grand piano, whose desk and keyboard were illuminated by a small brass piano lamp. On the bench, a frail creature made even more frail by the intimidating volumes of the Yamaha. Yet she did not seem intimidated, rather in perfect osmosis with her instrument, as if her slender body was one with the powerful mass of the piano: a musical body fully adapted to her design which was none other than the birth of an airy and melancholic harmony, capable of bewitching. »