Remembering the ball became for Emma a daily occupation. Every time Wednesday came round, she told herself when she woke up: 'Ah! One week ago...two weeks ago...three weeks ago, I was there!' And, little by little, in her memory, the faces all blurred together; she forgot the tunes of the quadrilles; no longer could she so clearly picture the liveries and the rooms; some details disappeared, but the yearning remained.

One's existence should be in two parts: one should live like a bourgeois and think like a demigod.

I don't believe that happiness is possible, but I think tranquility is.

The principal thing in the world is to keep the soul aloft.

Thought is the greatest of pleasures —pleasure itself is only imagination—have you ever enjoyed anything more than your dreams?

Snicker on hearing his name: 'the gentleman who thinks we are descended from the apes.'

The morality of art is in its very beauty.