Love is like fever; it comes and goes without the will having any part of the process.

If you think of paying court to the men in power, your eternal ruin is assured.

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

People are less self-conscious in the intimacy of family life and during the anxiety of a great sorrow. The dazzling varnish of anextreme politeness is then less in evidence, and the true qualities of the heart regain their proper proportions.

If you don't love me, it does not matter, anyway I can love for both of us.

Great ladies are no more spiteful than the average rich woman; but one acquires in their society a greater susceptibility, and feels more profoundly andmore irremediably, their unpleasant remarks.

The pleasures of love are always in proportion to our fears.