Modesty is the conscience of the body.

Love knows nothing of modesty.

Chance, my dear, is the sovereign deity in child-bearing.

Several sorts of memory exist in us; body and mind each possesses one peculiar to itself. Nostalgia, for instance, is a malady of the physical memory.

In the silence of their studios, busied for days at a time with works which leave the mind relatively free, painters become like women; their thoughts can revolve around the minor facts of life and penetrate their hidden meaning.

Our energies are often stimulated by the necessity of supporting a being weaker than ourselves.

Loyalty in time of need is possibly one of the noblest of victories a courtier can win over himself.