Any man, however blase or depraved, finds his love kindled anew when he sees himself threatened by a rival.

Many of us marvel at the icy insensitivity with which women snuff out their armours. But if they did not blot out the past in this manner, life for them would lose all dignity and they could never resist the fatal familiarities to which they once submitted.

There are two kinds of poets: those who feel and those who express themselves. The former are happier.

A man wastes his time going to hear some of our eloquent modern preachers; they may change his opinions, but never his conduct.

Admiration bestowed upon any one but ourselves is always tedious.

The love of nature is the only love that does not deceive human hopes.

Between the daylight gambler and the player at night there is the same difference that lies between a careless husband and the lover swooning under his lady's window.