Intuition, like the rays of the sun, acts only in an inflexibly straight line; it can guess right only on condition of never diverting its gaze; the freaks of chance disturb it.

In a husband, there is only a man; in a married woman, there is a man, a father, a mother and a woman.

Virtue, my pet, is an abstract idea, varying in its manifestations with the surroundings. Virtue in Provence, in Constantinople, in London, and in Paris bears very different fruit, but is none the less virtue.

The motto of chivalry is also the motto of wisdom; to serve all, but love only one.

Love is perhaps no more than gratitude for pleasure.

To kill a relative of whom you are tired is something. But to inherit his property afterwards, that is genuine pleasure.

Courtesy is only a thin veneer on the general selfishness.