One exits with one's husband -- one lives with one's lover.

To have one's mother-in-law in the country when one lives in Paris, and vice versa, is one of those strokes of luck that one encounters only too rarely.

Love and work have the virtues of making a man pretty indifferent to anything else.

Genuine sorrows are very tranquil in appearance in the deep bed they have dug for themselves. But, seeming to slumber, they corrode the soul like that frightful acid which penetrates crystal.

No society is complete without some victim, a creature to pity, to jeer at, to scorn or to protect.

Our energies are often stimulated by the necessity of supporting a being weaker than ourselves.

The Police and the Society of Jesus posses in common the virtue of never forsaking their enemies as friends.