In war," answered the weaver, "the strong make slaves of the weak, and in peace the rich make slaves of the poor. We must work to live, and they give us such mean wages that we die. We toil for them all day long, and they heap up gold in their coffers, and our children fade away before their time, and the faces of those we love become hard and evil. We tread out the grapes, another drinks the wine. We sow the corn, and our own board is empty. We have chains, though no eye beholds them; and are slaves, though men call us free.

To give and not expect return, that is what lies at the heart of love.

Every woman is a rebel.

One's past is what one is. It is the only way by which people should be judged.

I never came across anyone in whom the moral sense was dominant who was not heartless, cruel, vindictive, log-stupid, and entirely lacking in the smallest sense of humanity. Moral people, as they are termed, are simple beasts.

To be in love is to surpass one's self.

I don’t write this letter to put bitterness into your heart, but to pluck it out of mine. For my own sake I must forgive you.