Perfume is that last and best reserve of the past, the one which when all out tears have run dry, can make us cry again!

One becomes moral as soon as one is unhappy.

I cannot express the uneasiness caused in me by this intrusion of mystery and beauty into a room I had at last filled with myself to the point of paying no more attention to the room than to that self. The anesthetizing influence of habit having ceased, I would begin to have thoughts, and feelings, and they are such sad things.

People do not die for us immediately, but remain bathed in a sort of aura of life which bears no relation to true immortality but through which they continue to occupy our thoughts in the same way as when they were alive. It is as though they were traveling abroad.

Nine tenths of the ills from which intelligent people suffer spring from their intellect.

Masterpieces are no more than the shipwrecked flotsam of great minds.

We love only what we do not wholly possess.