Paris, like every pretty woman, is subject to inexplicable whims of beauty and ugliness.

Our greatest fears lie in anticipation.

The fact is that love is of two kinds, one which commands, and one which obeys. The two are quite distinct, and the passion to which the one gives rise is not the passion of the other.

Novelty is both delightful and deceptive.

When will conventional good manners become attractive? When will ladies of fashion exhibit their shoulders a little less and their affability and wit a little more?

Misfortune, no less than happiness, inspires us to dream.

Poets and men of action differ: the former yield to their feelings in order to reproduce them in lively colors, and therefore judge only ex post facto; the latter feel and judge at one and the same time.