People who are in love suspect nothing or everything.

Lovers have a way of using this word "nothing" which implies exactly the opposite.

A mother's happiness is like a beacon, lighting up the future but reflected also on the past in the guise of fond memories.

Sometimes, one gesture comprises an entire drama, the accent of one word ruins an entire existence, and the indifference of one glance kills the happiest passion.

Suicide, moreover, was at the time in vogue in Paris: what more suitable key to the mystery of life for a skeptical society?

One can imagine the look the two lovers exchanged; it was like a flame, for virtuous lovers have not a shred of hypocrisy.

Sensuality is the death of the soul.