Love is like a tree: it grows by itself, roots itself deeply in our being and continues to flourish over a heart in ruin. The inexplicable fact is that the blinder it is, the more tenacious it is. It is never stronger than when it is completely unreasonable.

Those who do not weep, do not see.

To think is of itself to be useful; it is always and in all cases a striving toward God.

Kings are for nations in their swaddling-clothes: France has attained her majority.

Habit is the nursery of errors.

The peculiarity of sunrise is to make us laugh at all our terrors of the night, and our laugh is always proportioned to the fear we have had.

Art needs no spur beyond itself.