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

Intuition, like the rays of the sun, acts only in an inflexibly straight line; it can guess right only on condition of never diverting its gaze; the freaks of chance disturb it.

A great writer is nothing less than a martyr who does not die.

The man whom fate employs to awaken love in the heart of a young girl is often unaware of his work and therefore leaves it uncompleted.

In the first woman we love, we love everything. Growing older, we love the woman only.

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

A woman in the depths of despair proves so persuasive that she wrenches the forgiveness lurking deep in the heart of her lover. This is all the more true when that woman is young, pretty, and so decollete as to emerge from the neck of her gown in the costume of Eve.