Women love us for our defects. If we have enough of them, they will forgive us everything, even our gigantic intellects.

No man is rich enough to buy back his past.

Only mediocrities progress. An artist revolves in a cycle of masterpieces, the first of which is no less perfect than the last.

The nicest feeling in the world is to do a good deed anonymously-and have somebody find out.

Ah! The strength of women comes from the fact that psychology cannot explain us. Men can be analyzed, women...merely adored.

Beauty is a form of genius -- is higher, indeed, than genius, as it needs no explanation.

For an artist to marry his model is as fatal as for a gourmet to marry his cook: the one gets no sittings, and the other gets no dinners.