Happiness is always the inaccessible castle which sinks in ruin when we set foot on it.

Up to forty a woman has only forty springs in her heart. After that age she has only forty winters.

Hope is the virgin of the ideal world, who opens beaten to as in the midst of every tempest.

Happiness is always the inaccessible castle which sinks in ruin when we set foot on it.

The heart is always young only in the recollection of those whom it has loved in youth.

Women of forty always fancy they have found the Fountain of Youth, and that they remain young in the midst of the ruins of their day.

Whoever embarks with women embarks with a storm; but they are themselves the safety boats.