A mother's life, you see, is one long succession of dramas, now soft and tender, now terrible. Not an hour but has its joys and fears.

No woman has ever existed who did not know perfectly well in her heart what to expect from the superiority or inferiority of a rival.

I yield to your wishes. It is the privilege of the women whom we love more than they love us to make the men who love them ignore the ordinary rules of common-sense.

Despotism accomplishes great things illegally; liberty doesn't even go to the trouble of accomplishing small things legally.

Many men are deeply moved by the mere semblance of suffering in a woman; they take the look of pain for a sign of constancy or of love.

Numbers are intellectual witnesses that belong only to mankind.

Your women of fashion ceases to be a woman. She is neither mother, nor wife, nor lover. She is, medically speaking, sex on the brain.