Love may be heard in the voice before it is seen in the eyes.
The heart of a woman of twenty-five is as little like that of a girl of eighteen as the heart of a woman of forty is like that of a woman of thirty: each age creates a new woman.
Love has its escutcheon.
Man clings to life in proportion to its infamy: it is then a protestation, a vengeance of every moment.
Glory is the deification of egotism.
He who foresees a bright future marches through the miseries of existence like an innocent man led to the scaffold. He knows not shame.
The slow execution of works of genius demands either a ready fortune or a cynical indifference to poverty.
No man can flatter himself that he knows a woman and makes her happy until he sees her continually at his feet.
The Orientals sequestrate their women. A woman who loves should sequestrate herself.
A cornice is the sweetest, the most submissive, the most indulgent confidant that a woman can find when she does not dare to look her interlocutor in the face. The cornice of a boudoir is an institution. It is a confessional minus the priest.