In every loving woman there is a priestess of the past - a pious guardian of some affection, of which the object has disappeared.

Every living being seeks instinctively to complete itself.

Sadness takes up the pen more readily than joy.

Men of genius supply the substance of history, while the mass of men are but the critical filter, the limiting, slackening, passive force needed for the modification of ideas supplied by genius.

Common sense is the measure of the possible; it is composed of experience and prevision; it is calculation applied to life.

Love is like swallowing hot chocolate before it has cooled off. It takes you by surprise at first, but keeps you warm for a long time.

The art which is grand and yet simple is that which presupposes the greatest elevation both in artist and in public.