When good Americans die, they go to Paris" "Where do bad Americans go?" "They stay in America

You know I have loved him always. But we are very poor. Who, being loved, is poor? Oh, no one. I hate my riches. They are a burden.

I made your sorrow mine also, that you might have help in bearing it.

All women are rebels.

Would you be in any way offended if I said that you seem to me to be in every way the visible personification of absolute perfection?

The burden of this world is too great for one man to bear, and the world’s sorrow too heavy for one heart to suffer.

It is perfectly possible to get what you think you want and be miserable. It's possible too, to never get it but deeply enjoy the process of trying. In this world, there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.