Like hunger, physical love is a necessity. But man's appetite for amour is never so regular or so sustained as his appetite for the delights of the table.

During the great storms of our lives we imitate those captains who jettison their weightiest cargo.

Any man, however blase or depraved, finds his love kindled anew when he sees himself threatened by a rival.

Ah! the soft starlight of virgin eyes.

Women, perhaps even require a little hypocrisy.

Foppery, being the chronic condition of women, is not so much noticed as it is when it breaks out on the person of the male bird.

With every one, the expectation of a misfortune constitutes a dreadful, punishment. Suffering then assumes the proportions of the unknown, which is the soul's infinite.