Art consists precisely in making us admire old stories, charming us with them eternally, as Nature charms with her eternal sun, her ancient earth, and her men built all on the same pattern, and all animated by the same feelings.

To say that my grief will be eternal would be ridiculous - nothing is eternal.

Life, that is Paris! Paris, that is life!

Nothing is ever so good or so bad in reality as it is in the anticipation.

one life would not suffice, mine especially. To touch everything and leave nothing after oneself! Ah! my God! I hope better than that. Ah! I am very cowardly, and under the blow of such a terror I am ready to believe in priests.

Time is the most terrible, the most discouraging, the most unconquerable of all obstacles, and one that may exist when no other does.

To a woman who knows her own mind men can only be a minor consideration.