La, tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté Luxe, calme et volupté There, there is nothing else but grace and measure, Richness, quietness, and pleasure.

It is regrettable that, among the Rights of Man, the right of contradicting oneself has been forgotten.

France at the dinner table in faraway places; but here, among ourselves, in the family, let us face the facts: France is not poetic; to tell the truth, she even feels a congenital horror of poetry. Among the writers who use verse, those whom she will always prefer are the most prosaic.

Nothing is as tedious as the limping days, When snowdrifts yearly cover all the ways, And ennui, sour fruit of incurious gloom, Assumes control of fate’s immortal loom

Within the bottle's depths, the wine's soul sang one night. Drink wine, drink poetry, drink virtue.

For each letter received from a creditor, write fifty lines on an extraterrestrial subject and you will be saved.

The form of a town changes more swiftly alas! Than the heart of a mortal.