All Paris knew him as a fighter, a recluse, guarding his privacy with cruel, crushing words. The habitues of the Paris boulevards defended themselves against his scorn by accusing him of insincerity. 'Degas,' they said, 'would like to see his reflection in a boulevard window in order to give himself the satisfaction of breaking the plate-glass with his cane.'

Forain s'etait construit un hotel, et fil installer le telephone presque nouveau. Il voulut d'abord 'epater' Degas. Il l'invite a diner, previent un compere, q…

To anyone who is not an artist it must seem rather strange that Degas who could do anything - for whom setting down what he saw presented no difficulties at al…

I would ask him to give me his definition of drawing. 'You don't know a thing about it,' he would always end up saying. And without fail he would go on to this…

Our father the novelist; my husband the poet. He belongs to the ages - just don't catch him at breakfast. Artists, celebrated for their humanity, they turn out…

What rage for fame attends both great and small! Better be damned than mentioned not at all.

There is a marvelous peace in not publishing. ... It's peaceful. Still. Publishing is a terrible invasion of my privacy. I like to write. I live to write. But …