In looking around me seeking for miserable resources against the heaviness of time, I open a book and I say to myself, as the cat to the fox: I have only one good turn, but I need no other.

Remarkable places are like the summits of rocks; eagles and reptiles only can get there.

That woman is happiest whose life is passed in the shadow of a manly, loving heart.

Love is the pass-key to the heart.

Romance is the poetry of literature.

Love is the only possession which we can carry with us beyond the grave.

The quarrels of lovers are like summer storms. Everything is more beautiful when they have passed.