A Creole woman is like a child, she wants to possess everything immediately; like a child, she would set fire to a house in order to fry an egg. In her languor, she thinks of nothing; when passionately aroused, she thinks of any act possible or impossible.

Towns find it as hard as houses of business to rise again from ruin.

The smallest flower is a thought, a life answering to some feature of the Great Whole, of whom they have a persistent intuition.

Liberty begets anarchy, anarchy leads to despotism, and despotism brings about liberty once again. Millions of human beings have perished without being able to make any of these systems triumph.

A woman in love has full intelligence of her power; the more virtuous she is, the more effective her coquetry.

Sensuality is the death of the soul.

He hesitated till the last moment, but finally dropped them in the box, saying, "I shall win!"--the cry of a gambler, the cry of the great general, the compulsive cry that has ruined more men than it has ever saved.