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To be happy, a man must love his wife as she chooses to be loved.

Honore de Balzac

Related Topics

Choice Happiness Herself Love Man Wife

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No man has ever yet discovered the way to give friendly advice to any woman, not even to his own wife.
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Woman is a delightful instrument of pleasure, but it is necessary to know its trembling strings, to study the position of them, the timid keyboard, the fingering so changeful and capricious which befits it.
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The boor covers himself, the rich man or the fool adorns himself, and the elegant man gets dressed.
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Cruelty and fear shake hands together.
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A great writer is nothing less than a martyr who does not die.
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It is quite right what they say: the three most beautiful sights in the world are a ship in full sail, a galloping horse, and a woman dancing.
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Great minds always tend to see virtue in misfortune.
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The smallest flower is a thought, a life answering to some feature of the Great Whole, of whom they have a persistent intuition.
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Men die in despair, while spirits die in ecstasy.
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Solitude is fine, but you need someone to tell you that solitude is fine.
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How sternly we reproach virtue for its failings, how indulgent we are to the better qualities of vice!
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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.
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The greater a man’s talents, the more marked his idiosyncracies. Yet in the provinces originality is considered perilously close to lunacy.
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The secret of great fortunes without apparent cause is a crime forgotten, for it was properly done.
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