If the human heart sometimes finds moments of pause as it ascends the slopes of affection, it rarely halts on the way down.

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

The wounds of self-love turn incurable when the oxide of self-love gets into them.

Ah! What pleasure it must be to a woman to suffer for the one she loves!

One admirable trait in women is their lack of illusions about themselves. They never reason about their most blameworthy actions; their feelings carry them away. Even their dissimulation comes naturally to them, and in them crime is free of all baseness. Most of the time they simply do not know how it happened.

Love is a religion, and its rituals cost more than those of other religions. It goes by quickly and, like a street urchin, it likes to mark its passage by a trail of devastation.

Isn't it really quite extraordinary to see that, since man took his first step, no one has asked himself why he walks, how he walks, if he has ever walked, if he could walk better, what he achieves in walking .. questions that are tied to all the philosophical, psychological, and political systems which preoccupy the world.