I love everything that makes up a milieu, the rolling of the carriages and the noise of the workmen in Paris, the cries of a thousand birds in the country, the movement of the ships on the waters. I love also absolute, profound silence, and, in short, I love everything that is around me, no matter where I am.

O heart! love is thy bane and thy antidote.

Weeds are omnipresent; errors are to be found in the heart of the most lovable.

The lessons of experience are always learned too late.

He who draws noble delights from sentiments of poetry is a true poet, though he has never written a line in all his life.

Unrequited love is as different from the mutual love as the error from the truth.

There are no more thorough prudes than those who have some little secret to hide.