The tyranny of public opinion (and what an opinion!) is as fatuous in the small towns of France as it is in the United States of America.

A woman of generous character will sacrifice her life a thousand times over for her lover, but will break with him for ever over a question of pride.

God's only excuse is that he does not exist.

The French are the wittiest, the most charming, and up to the present, at all events, the least musical race on Earth.

I am mad, I am going under, I must follow the advice of a friend, and pay no heed to myself.

There are as many styles of beauty as there are visions of happiness.

Spring appears and we are once more children.