You know very well that I no longer think. I am far too intelligent for that.

Morality, when formal, devours.

Old married people look so much alike that they have the same number of hairs in their ears.

Man cannot do without beauty, and this is what our era pretends to want to disregard.

That's the way man is, cher monsieur. He has two faces: he can't love without self-love.

Where would his torture be, indeed, if at every step the hope of succeeding upheld him?

Why must one love rarely to love well?