No one can keep a secret better than a child.

To rove about, musing, that is to say loitering, is, for a philosopher, a good way of spending time, especially in that kind of mock rurality, ugly but odd, and partaking of two natures, which surrounds certain large cities, particularly Paris.

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

There is but one way of refusing To-morrow, that is to die.

To see so much misery everywhere, I suspect that God is not rich. He keeps up appearances, it is true, but I feel the pinch. He gives a revolution as a merchant, whose credit is low, gives a ball.

In the opera we call love, the libretto is almost nothing.

Nothing makes a man so adventurous as an empty pocket.