Both ardent lovers and austere scholars, when once they come to the years of discretion, love cats, so strong and gentle, the pride of the household, who like them are sensitive to the cold, and sedentary.

There is no dream of love, however ideal it may be, which does not end up with a fat, greedy baby hanging from the breast.

Our squalid society rushed, Narcissus to a man, to gaze on its trivial image on a scrap of metal.

Alas! Man's vices, horrible as they are supposed to be, contain the positive proof of his taste for the infinite.

Evil is committed without effort, naturally, fatally; goodness is always the product of some art.

Nearly all our originality comes from the stamp that time impresses upon our sensibility.

If photography is allowed to supplement art in some of its functions, it will soon have supplanted or corrupted it altogether, thanks to the stupidity of the multitude which is its natural ally.