a woman's heart has no wrinkles.

Young love needs dangers and barriers to nourish it.

If they are ignorant, they are despised, if learned, mocked. In love they are reduced to the status of courtesans. As wives they are treated more as servants than as companions. Men do not love them: they make use of them, they exploit them, and expect, in that way, to make them subject to the law of fidelity.

God has written in the law of nature that when two people are joined in love or friendship, one must always give his heart more perfectly than the other.

No one makes a revolution by himself.

Lying, like license, has its degrees.

We do not precisely enjoy liberty at the Figaro. M. de Latouche, our worthy director (ah! you should know the fellow), is always hanging over us, cutting, pruning, right or wrong, imposing upon us his whims, his aberrations, his fancies, and we have to write as he bids.