There comes a day when, for someone who has persecuted us, we feel only indifference, a weariness at his stupidity. Then we forgive him.

The cadence of suffering has begun. Every evening at dusk, my heart constricts until night has come.

Hate is always a clash between our spirit and someone else's body.

When we read, we are not looking for new ideas, but to see our own thoughts given the seal of confirmation on the printed page. The words that strike us are those that awake an echo in a zone we have already made our own—the place where we live—and the vibration enables us to find fresh starting points within ourselves

No woman marries for money; they are all clever enough, before marrying a millionaire, to fall in love with him first.

The only joy in the world is to begin.

Woman gives herself as a prize to the weak and as a prop to the strong and no man ever has what he should.