Authentic love always assumes the mystery of modesty, even in its expression, because actions speak louder than words. Unlike a feigned love, it feels no need to set a conflagration.

Only when one has learned to acknowledge that wiser minds have made better words to come out of our mouths may we truly, then, begin to speak them.

There is something great and terrible about suicide.

A penniless man who has no ties to bind him is master of himself at any rate, but a luckless wretch who is in love no longer belongs to himself, and may not take his own life. Love makes us almost sacred in our own eyes; it is the life of another that we revere within us; then and so begins for us the cruelest trouble of all.

Remorse is impotent; it will repeat its faults. Repentance only is a true force; it puts an end to everything.

The majority of husbands remind me of an orangutan trying to play the violin.

Men are so made that they can resist sound argument, and yet yield to a glance.