We love because we love.
In a world of hunchbacks, a fine figure becomes a monstrosity.
Nobody loves a woman because she is handsome or ugly, stupid or intelligent. We love because we love.
Virtue, perhaps, is nothing more than politeness of soul.
The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness.
What makes friendship indissolute and what doubles its charms is a feeling we find lacking in love: I mean certitude.