A mother who is really a mother is never free.
We are never either so wretched or so happy as we say we are.
It is as absurd to say that a man can't love one woman all the time as it is to say that a violinist needs several violins to play the same piece of music.
Who is to decide which is the grimmer sight: withered hearts, or empty skulls?
There are two kinds of poets: those who feel and those who express themselves. The former are happier.
They [twin beds] are the most stupid, the most perfidious, and the most dangerous invention in the world. Shame and a curse on who thought of them.