It is only goodness which gives extras, and so I say again that we have much to hope from the flowers.

You will, I am sure, agree with me that... if page 534 only finds us in the second chapter, the length of the first one must have been really intolerable.

You know how easily and suddenly these things happen, beginning in playful teasing and ending in something a little warmer than friendship. You squeeze the slender arm which is passed through yours, you venture to take the little gloved hand, you say good night at absurd length in the shadow of the door. It is innocent and very interesting, love trying his wings in a first little flutter.

The love of books is among the choicest gifts of the gods.

It is, I admit, mere imagination; but how often is imagination the mother of truth?

Well, well, my dear fellow, be it so. We have shared this same room for some years, and it would be amusing if we ended by sharing the same cell. (...)

There are no fools so troublesome as those who have some wit.