“Your career will be a painful one. I divine something in you which offends the vulgar.”

It is difficult to escape from the prevailing disease of one’s generation.

The shepherd always tries to persuade the sheep that their interests and his own are the same.

I call “crystallization” that action of the mind that discovers fresh perfections in its beloved at every turn of events.

A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love.

The more one pleases everybody, the less one pleases profoundly.

One of the traits of genius is not to drag its thought through the rut worn by vulgar minds.

The first virtue of a young man today – that is, for the next fifty years perhaps, as long as we live in fear, and religion has regained its powers – is to be incapable of enthusiasm and not to have much in the way of brains.

Love has always been the most important business in my life; I should say the only one.

At a distance, we cannot conceive of the authority of a despot who knows all his subjects on sight.

Politics in a literary work, is like a gun shot in the middle of a concert, something vulgar, and however, something which is impossible to ignore.

This religion takes away the courage of thinking of unusual things and prohibits self-examination above all as the most egregious of sins. It is one step away from protestantism.

Pleasure is often spoiled by describing it.

It is with blows dealt by public contempt that a husband kills his wife in the nineteenth century; it is by shutting the doors ofall the drawing-rooms in her face.

The only unhappiness is a life of boredom.

In matters of sentiment, the public has very crude ideas; and the most shocking fault of women is that they make the public the supreme judge of their lives.

She had caprices of a marvellous unexpectedness, and how is any one to imitate a caprice?