Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and then for money.
There is no praise to bear the sort that you put in your pocket.
Ah, there are no longer any children!
Age brings about everything; but it is not the time, Madam, as we know, to be a prude at twenty.
The trees that are slow to grow bear the best fruit.
One ought to look a good deal at oneself before thinking of condemning others.