A strange thing, the human heart in general, and woman's heart in particular.

Happiness comes the way the wind blows.

What of it? If I die, I die. It will be no great loss to the world, and I am thoroughly bored with life. I am like a man yawning at a ball; the only reason he does not go home to bed is that his carriage has not arrived yet.

Passions are merely ideas in their initial stage.

I love enemies, though not in the Christian way. They amuse me, excite my blood. Being always on one’s guard, catching every glance, the significance of every word, guessing at intentions, frustrating their plots, pretending to be tricked, and suddenly, with a shove, upturning the whole enormous and arduously built edifice of their cunning and schemes—that’s what I call life.

And I, as I lived, in an alien landWill die a slave and an orphan.

Out of life's storm I carried only a few ideas - and not one feeling.