The birth of love is always accompanied by the idea of solitude. A single being appears, and the rest of the world grows empty.

Words express only the feelings we know already.

Children never grow tired; their likes and dislikes are constant; let them laugh at something once and they laugh always; do what you will, they are sure to say, 'Do it again!

One should make one's life a mosaic. Let the general design be good, the colors lively, and the materials diversified.

... love always betrays its intentions.

The arts are good and providential in that they allow the soul to imitate the movements of love, and to feel love without its being returned - which, perhaps, is the only way of feeling it permanently.

those two wholesome defects of the French people, malice and curiosity, both of which are essential to its greatness.