Real love is the love that sometimes arises after sensual pleasure: if it does, it is immortal; the other kind inevitably goes stale, for it lies in mere fantasy.

In fact, to gull a fool seems to me an exploit worthy of a witty man.

I know that I have lived because I have felt, and, feeling giving me the knowledge of my existence.

Give me a man who is man enough to give himself just to the woman who is worth him. If that woman were me,I would love him alone and forever

Hatred, in the course of time, kills the unhappy wretch who delights in nursing it in his bosom.

economy spoils pleasure

The reader of these Memoirs will discover that I never had any fixed aim before my eyes, and that my system, if it can be called a system, has been to glide away unconcernedly on the stream of life, trusting to the wind wherever it led.