As humanity perfects itself, man becomes degraded. When everything is reduced to the mere counter-balancing of economic interests, what room will there be for virtue? When Nature has been so subjugated that she has lost all her original forms, where will that leave the plastic arts? And so on. In the mean time, things are going to get very murky.

You'll always have to deal with bastards, being lied to, deceived, slandered and ridiculed, but that's to be expected and you must thank heaven when you meet the exception.

After the pain of this disappointment her heart once more stood empty, and the succession of identical days began again.

Woman is a vulgar animal from whom man has created an excessively beautiful ideal.

Reality does not conform to the ideal, but confirms it.

There comes a point at which you stop writing and think all the more

But an infinity of passions can be contained in a minute, like a crowd in a tiny space.