Today nobility is gone: there is only a peerage.

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.

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

It is not hope but despair that gives us the measure of our ambitions. We may yield secretly to beautiful poems of hope but grief looms start and stripped of all veils.

At fifteen, neither beauty nor talent exist: a woman is all promise.

Tradesmen regard an author with a mixed feeling of terror, compassion and curiosity.

For certain people, misfortune is a beacon that lights up the dark and baser sides of social life.