Nobody loves a woman because she is handsome or ugly, stupid or intelligent. We love because we love.

To forget is the great secret of strong creative natures; to forget is the way nature herself who knows no past and who at every hour begins the mysteries of her untiring labors afresh.

Woman has this in common with angels, that suffering beings belong especially to her.

When one of those skirt-bearing animals has set herself up above all by permitting herself to be deified, no power on earth can be as proud as she.

By resorting to self-resignation, the unfortunate consummate.

The endless legacy of the past to the present is the secret source of human genius.

Memories beautify life, but the capacity to forget makes it bearable.