Most of those who make collections of verse or epigram are like men eating cherries or oysters: they choose out the best at first, and end by eating all.

Spero Speroni explains admirably how an author who writes very clearly for himself is often obscure to his readers. "It is," he says, "because the author proceeds from the thought to the expression, and the reader from the expression to the thought.

Woman's weakness, not man's merit, oftenest gains the suitor's victory.

Nature never said to me: Do not be poor; still less did she say: Be rich; her cry to me was always: Be independent.

Someone described Providence as the baptismal name of chance; no doubt some pious person will retort that chance is the nickname of Providence.

Vivre est un maladie dont le sommeil nous soulage toutes les 16 heures. C'est un pallatif. La mort est le remede.

Stupidity would not be absolute stupidity did it not fear intelligence.