Clouds symbolize the veils that shroud God.
By dint of making sacrifices, a man grows interested in the person who exacts them. Great ladies, like courtesans, know this truth by instinct.
Virtue, perhaps, is nothing more than politeness of soul.
A mother's life, you see, is one long succession of dramas, now soft and tender, now terrible. Not an hour but has its joys and fears.
Creole women take after Europe in their intelligence, after the Tropics in the illogical violence of their passions, and after the Indies in the apathetic indolence with which they commit or suffer good and evil.
Nature endows woman alternately with a particular strength which helps her to suffer and a weakness which counsels her to be resigned.
Women are as they are; they necessarily have the defects of their virtues.
A married woman is a slave you must know how to seat upon a throne.
Marriageable girls as well as mothers understand the terms and perils of the lottery called wedlock. That is why women weep at a wedding and men smile.
The Police and the Society of Jesus posses in common the virtue of never forsaking their enemies as friends.
There are two kinds of poets: those who feel and those who express themselves. The former are happier.
I am not deep, but I am very wide.
To speak of love is to make love.
It's not enough to be a good person. You also have to show it.
We are scarcely apt to berate the source of enjoyment.
The fashions we call English in Paris are French in London, and vice versa. Franco-British hostility vanishes when it comes to questions of words and clothing. God save the King is a tune composed by Lully for a chorus in a play by Racine.
When in Turkey, do as the turkeys do.
One exits with one's husband -- one lives with one's lover.
Lofty souls are always inclined to make a virtue of misfortune.
White and shining virgin of all human virtues, ark of the covenant between earth and heaven, tender and strong companion partaking of the lion and of the lamb, Prayer! Prayer will give you the key of heaven! Bold and pure as innocence, strong, like all that is single and simple, this glorious, invincible Queen rests, nevertheless, on the material world; she takes possession of it; like the sun, she clasps it in a circle of light.
There is something great and terrible about suicide.
Admiration bestowed upon any one but ourselves is always tedious.
For the journalist, anything probable is gospel truth.
It is only in the act of nursing that a woman realizes her motherhood in visible and tangible fashion; it is a joy of every moment.
Doubt follows white-winged hope with trembling steps.
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