Never had he found himself so close to those terrible weapons of feminine artillery.

Love is like a fever which comes and goes quite independently of the will. ... there are no age limits for love.

A forty-year-old woman is only something to men who have loved her in her youth.

An English traveller relates how he lived upon intimate terms with a tiger; he had reared it and used to play with it, but always kept a loaded pistol on the table.

Love is a well from which we can drink only as much as we have put in, and the stars that shine from it are only our eyes looking in.

Pleasure is often spoiled by describing it.

True love makes the thought of death frequent, easy, without terrors; it merely becomes the standard of comparison, the price one would pay for many things.