What moralists describe as the mysteries of the human heart are solely the deceiving thoughts, the spontaneous impulses of self-regard. The sudden changes in character, about which so much has been said, are instinctive calculations for the furtherance of our own pleasures. Seeing himself now in his fine clothes, his new gloves and shoes, Eugène de Rastignac forgot his noble resolve. Youth, when it swerves toward wrong, dares not look in the mirror of conscience; maturity has already seen itself there. That is the whole difference between the two phases of life.

He has great tranquility of heart who cares neither for the praises nor the fault-finding of men.

When there is an old maid in the house, a watchdog is unnecessary.

Great love affairs start with Champagne and end with tisane.

The man who enters his wife's dressing room is either a philosopher or a fool.

When a woman starts talking about her duty, her regard for appearances, and her respect for religion, she raises so many bulwarks which she delights to see captured by storm.

Hatred is the vice of narrow souls; they feed it with all their littleness, and make it the pretext of base tyrannies.