Power is not revealed by striking hard or often, but by striking true.
Marriage must fight constantly against a monster which devours everything: routine.
True lovers know how trifling a thing is money yet how difficult to blend with love!
To feel, to love, to suffer, to devote herself, will always be the text of the life of woman.
Envy lurks at the bottom of the human heart like a viper in its hole.
When a woman wants to betray her husband, her actions are almost invariably studied but they are never reasoned.
Love is precisely to the moral nature what the sun is to the earth.
Noble hearts are neither jealous nor afraid because jealousy spells doubt and fear spells pettiness.
One hour of love has a whole life in it.
A courage which looks easy & yet is rare; the courage of a teacher repeating day after day the same lessons - the least rewarded of all forms of courage.
The smallest flower is a thought, a life answering to some feature of the Great Whole, of whom they have a persistent intuition.
Events are never absolute, their outcome depends entirely upon the individual.
A mother who is really a mother is never free.
As a rule, only the poor are generous. Rich people can always find excellent reasons for not handing over twenty thousand francs to a relative.
Sometimes at the best moments a single word or a look is enough.'
Love, according to our contemporary poets, is a privilege which two beings confer upon one another, whereby they may mutually cause one another much sorrow over absolutely nothing.
Death unites as well as separates; it silences all paltry feeling.
Woman is a most charming creature, who changes her heart as easily as she does her gloves.
Excess of joy is harder to bear than any amount of sorrow.
How can we explain the perpetuity of envy--a vice which yields no return?
For avarice begins where poverty ends.
The national budget is not a safe-deposit box. It is a spray can.
The greater a man's talents, the more marked his idiosyncracies. Yet in the provinces originality is considered perilously close to lunacy.
Only when one has learned to acknowledge that wiser minds have made better words to come out of our mouths may we truly, then, begin to speak them.
The most real of all splendors are not in outward things, they are within us.
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