Let passion reach a catastrophe and it submits us to an intoxicating force far more powerful than the niggardly irritation of wine or of opium. The lucidity our ideas then achieve, and the delicacy of our overly exalted sensations, produce the strangest and most unexpected effects.

Stupidity assumes two forms, it speaks or is silent. Mute stupidity is bearable.

The woman who is about to deceive her husband always carefully thinks out how she is going to act, but she is never logical.

The press is like a woman: sublime when it lies, it will not let go until it has forced you to believe it. The public, like a foolish husband, always succumbs.

Sects differ more in name than tenets.

The duration of passion is proportionate with the original resistance of the woman.

You're a fine fastidious young man, as proud as a lion, as gentle as a girl. You'd make a good catch for the devil.