In a world of hunchbacks, a fine figure becomes a monstrosity.

A woman filled with faith in the one she loves is the creation of a novelist's imagination.

Give to a wounded heart seclusion; consolation nor reason ever effected anything in such a case.

Old maids, having never bent their temper or their lives to other lives and other tempers, as woman's destiny requires, have for the most part a mania for making everything about them bend to them.

A great writer is nothing less than a martyr who does not die.

Nothing is so discreet as a young face, for nothing is less mobile; it has the serenity, the surface smoothness, and the freshnessof a lake. There is no character in women's faces before the age of thirty.

But reason always cuts a poor figure beside sentiment; the one being essentially restricted, like everything that is positive, while the other is infinite.