Haughty people seem to me to have, like the dwarfs, the stature of a child and the face of a man.

Words become luminous when the poet's finger has passed over them its phosphorescence.

Good maxims are the germs of all excellence.

Children need models rather than critics.

We are all of us more or less echoes, repeating involuntarily the virtues, the defects, the movements, and the characters of those among whom we live.

Everything that is exact is short.

Of the two, I prefer those who render vice lovable to those who degrade virtue.