Man's condition is horrible because, no matter what form his happiness may take, it arises from some species of ignorance.

Happiness lends poetic charms to woman, and dress adorns her like a delicate tinge of rouge.

My writing table has seen all my wretchedness, knows all my plans, has overheard all my thoughts.

What patient can trust the knowledge of a physician without reputation or furniture, in a period when publicity is all-powerful and when the government gilds the lamp posts on the Place de la Concorde in order to dazzle the poor?

A woman knows the face of the man she loves as a sailor knows the open sea.

The greater a man's talents, the more marked his idiosyncracies. Yet in the provinces originality is considered perilously close to lunacy.

The national budget is not a safe-deposit box. It is a spray can.