Conscience is our unerring judge until we finally stifle it.

Society proceeds like the ocean. After a disaster, it resume its wonted level and rhythms; its devouring interests efface all traces of damage.

Materialism and spirituality are two pretty racquets with which charlatans in cap and gown make the same ball fly.

The majority of husbands remind me of an orangutan trying to play the violin.

He who best knows the world will love it least.

Who shall ever tell how much an unmerited disfavor crushes a shy person? Who can ever depict the misfortunes of timidity?

There is neither vice nor virtue, there are only circumstances.