Coffee falls into the stomach... ideas begin to move, things remembered arrive at full gallop... the shafts of wit start up like sharp-shooters, similes arise, the paper is covered with ink...

Love is the only passion which suffers neither past nor future.

Small natures require despotism to exercise their sinews, as great souls thirst for equality to give play to their heart.

All human power is a compound of time and patience.

Ideas devour the ages as men are devoured by their passions. When man is cured, human nature will cure itself perhaps.

The secret of a great success for which you are at a loss to account is a crime that has never been found out, because it was properly executed.

Virtue in women is perhaps a question of temperament.