It is with blows dealt by public contempt that a husband kills his wife in the nineteenth century; it is by shutting the doors ofall the drawing-rooms in her face.
God's only excuse is that he does not exist.
Never had he found himself so close to those terrible weapons of feminine artillery.
I love her beauty, but I fear her mind.
Power, after love, is the first source of happiness.
It is difficult to escape from the prevailing disease of one's generation.