True love is eternal, infinite, and always like itself. It is equal and pure, without violent demonstrations: it is seen with white hairs and is always young in the heart.

We cannot confront solitude without moral resources.

The privilege of feeling at home everywhere belongs only to kings, wolves and robbers.

Imagination helps the realism of every detail, and only sees the beauties of the work.

Love or hatred must constantly increase between two persons who are always together; every moment fresh reasons are found for loving or hating better.

At fifteen, beauty and talent do not exist; there can only be promise of the coming woman.

Whoever does not visit Paris regularly will never really be elegant.