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.

The impossible is justified by the fact that it occurred

Art's greatest efforts are invariably a timid counterfeit of Nature.

In love, what a woman mistakes for disgust is actually clearsightedness. If she does not admire a man, she scorns him.

The virtues we acquire, which develop slowly within us, are the invisible links that bind each one of our existences to the others - existences which the spirit alone remembers, for Matter has no memory for spiritual things.

Those sweetly smiling angels with pensive looks, innocent faces, and cash-boxes for hearts.

I believe in the incomprehensibility of God.