Journalism is a giant catapult set in motion by pigmy hatreds.

A grass blade believes that men build palaces for it to grow in. Grass wedges its way between the closest blocks of marble and it brings them down. This power of feeble life which can creep in anywhere is greater than that of the mighty behind their cannons.

A lover always thinks of his mistress first and himself second; with a husband it runs the other way.

Perhaps it is only human nature to inflict suffering on anything that will endure suffering, whether by reason of its genuine humility, or indifference, or sheer helplessness.

The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness.

No woman dares to refuse love without a motive, for nothing is more natural than to yield to love.

To forget is the great secret of strong creative natures; to forget is the way nature herself who knows no past and who at every hour begins the mysteries of her untiring labors afresh.