The beauty of a lovely woman is like music.

You know I have duties──we both have duties──before which feeling must be sacrificed.

We are all of us born in moral stupidity, taking the world as an udder to feed our supreme selves

We are on a perilous margin when we begin to look passively at our future selves, and see our own figures led with dull consent into insipid misdoing and shabby achievement.

Blessed is the man, who having nothing to say, abstains from giving wordy evidence of the fact.

The tale of the Divine Pity was never yet believed from lips that were not felt to be moved by human pity.

Decide on what you think is right, and stick to it.