People who are in love suspect nothing or everything.
All human power is a compound of time and patience.
One exits with one's husband -- one lives with one's lover.
Necessity is the spur of genius.
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.
All men can bear a familiar, definite misfortune better than the cruel alternations of a fate which, from one moment to another, brings excessive joy or sorrow.