Show me the woman, however loyal, who does not seek to rouse desire.

A grass blade believes that men build palaces for it to grow in. Grass wedges its way between the closest blocks of marble and it brings them down. This power of feeble life which can creep in anywhere is greater than that of the mighty behind their cannons.

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

The majority of husbands remind me of an orangutan trying to play the violin.

A good husband is never the first to go to sleep at night or the last to awake in the morning.

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

Everything becomes agitated. Ideas quick-march into motion like battalions of a grand army to its legendary fighting ground, and the battle rages. Memories charge in, bright flags on high; the cavalry of metaphor deploys with a magnificent gallop; the artillery of logic rushes up with clattering wagons and cartridges; on imagination's orders, sharpshooters sight and fire; forms and shapes and characters rear up; the paper is spread with ink - for the nightly labor begins and ends with torrents of this black water, as a battle opens and concludes with black powder.