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

No woman allows her lover to descend from his pedestal. Even a god is not forgiven the slightest pettiness.

Genuine sorrows are very tranquil in appearance in the deep bed they have dug for themselves. But, seeming to slumber, they corrode the soul like that frightful acid which penetrates crystal.

A young bride is like a plucked flower; but a guilty wife is like a flower that had been walked over.

Six weeks with a fever is an eternity.

The fact is that love is of two kinds, one which commands, and one which obeys. The two are quite distinct, and the passion to which the one gives rise is not the passion of the other.

The day will dawn when Europe will believe only in the man who tramples her underfoot.