Though the human heart may have to pause for rest when climbing the heights of affection it rarely stops on the slippery slope of hatred.

When passion is not fed, it changes to need. At this juncture, marriage becomes a fixed idea in the mind of the bourgeois, being the only means whereby he can win a woman and appropriate her to his uses.

Woman has this in common with angels, that suffering beings belong especially to her.

Conscience is a cudgel which all men pick up in order to thwack their neighbors instead of applying it to their own shoulders.

A woman in love has full intelligence of her power; the more virtuous she is, the more effective her coquetry.

Alas, two men are often necessary to provide a woman with a perfect lover, just as in literature a writer composes a type only by employing the singularities of several similar characters.

People who are in love suspect nothing or everything.