One of the glories of society is to have created woman where Nature had made only a female; to have created a continuity of desire where Nature thought only of perpetuating the species; and, in fine, to have invented love.

Paris, like every pretty woman, is subject to inexplicable whims of beauty and ugliness.

Woman is closer to angels than man because she knows how to mingle an infinite tenderness with the most absolute compassion.

Envy lurks at the bottom of the human heart like a viper in its hole.

Among even the happiest married couples there are always moments of regret.

When law becomes despotic, morals are relaxed, and vice versa.

Modesty is the conscience of the body.