A joyous little creature, so beautiful, It was as if a gate of Heaven opened as she came in.

The paradise of the rich is made out of the hell of the poor.

The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.

A tempest ceases, a cyclone passes over, a wind dies down, a broken mast can be replaced, a leak can be stopped, a fire extinguished, but what will become of this enormous brute of bronze?

The wind of revolutions is not tractable.

What is called honors and dignities, and even honor and dignity, is generally fool's gold.

He who contemplates the depths of Paris is seized with vertigo. Nothing is more fantastic. Nothing is more tragic. Nothing is more sublime.