No woman allows her lover to descend from his pedestal. Even a god is not forgiven the slightest pettiness.

When you doubt your power, you give power to your doubt.

What moralist can deny that well-bred and vicious people are much more agreeable than their virtuous counterparts? Having crimes to atone for, they provisionally solicit indulgence by showing leniency toward the defects of their judges. Thus they pass for excellent folk.

All we are is in the soul.

Death unites as well as separates; it silences all paltry feeling.

It's not enough to be a good person. You also have to show it.

At thirty years a woman asks her lover to give her back the esteem she has forfeited for his sake; she lives only for him, her thoughts are full of his future, he must have a great career, she bids him make it glorious; she can obey, entreat, command, humble herself, or rise in pride; times without number she brings comfort when a young girl can only make moan.