Love has its own instinct, finding the way to the heart, as the feeblest insect finds the way to its flower, with a will which nothing can dismay nor turn aside.

No frozen-hearted woman ever I laid eyes on but has made duty her religion.

When attempted self-destruction does not cure a man of life, it cures him of voluntary death.

While seeking out the dead, I see nothing but the living.

A man's own vanity is a swindler that never lacks for a dupe.

We flew back home like swallows. 'Is it happiness that makes us so light?' Agathe asked.

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.