There are women who love their husbands as blindly, as enthusiastically, and as enigmatically as nuns their cloister.
Beware of the virtue which a man boasts is his.
We ask the poet: 'What subject have you chosen?' instead of: 'What subject has chosen you?
Age either transfigures or petrifies.
The incurable ills are the imaginary ills.
To accept reason is impossible if you don't already possess it.