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.

When she lives at his palace, the maiden niece of a bishop can pass for a respectable woman because, if she has a love affair, she is obliged to hoodwink her uncle.

Jealousy, an eminently credulous and suspicious passion, allows fancy the greatest possible play. But it does not bestow wit, it banishes all sense.

There is nothing original; all is reflected light.

No navigator has yet traced lines of latitude and longitude on the conjugal sea.

Virtually all men of action incline to Fatality just as most thinkers incline to Providence.

Love is precisely to the moral nature what the sun is to the earth.