Unhappy love freezes all our affections: our own souls grow inexplicable to us. More than we gained while we were happy we lose by the reverse.

I am glad that I am not a man, for then I should have to marry a woman.

Gaiety pleases more when we are assured that it does not cover carelessness.

Happiness is a wondrous commodity: the more you give, the more you have.

I never was able to believe in the existence of next year except as in a metaphysical notion.

a perfect piece of architecture kindles that aimless reverie, which bears the soul we know not whither.

Speech happens to not be his language.