All happiness depends on courage and work.
Love is the poetry of the senses.
A woman knows the face of the man she loves as a sailor knows the open sea.
Women are always true, even in the midst of their greatest falsities, because they are always influenced by some natural feeling.
Passion is universal humanity. Without it religion, history, romance and art would be useless.
Women are tenacious, and all of them should be tenacious of respect; without esteem they cannot exist; esteem is the first demand that they make of love.
A good marriage would be between a blind wife and a deaf husband.
The duration of passion is proportionate with the original resistance of the woman.
Small natures require despotism to exercise their sinews, as great souls thirst for equality to give play to their heart.
A lover always thinks of his mistress first and himself second; with a husband it runs the other way.
Love or hatred must constantly increase between two persons who are always together; every moment fresh reasons are found for loving or hating better.
Love has its own instinct, finding the way to the heart, as the feeblest insect finds the way to its flower, with a will which nothing can dismay nor turn aside.
The fact is that love is of two kinds, one which commands, and one which obeys. The two are quite distinct, and the passion to which the one gives rise is not the passion of the other.
It is easier to be a lover than a husband for the simple reason that it is more difficult to be witty every day than to say pretty things from time to time.
I do not regard a broker as a member of the human race.
Many men are deeply moved by the mere semblance of suffering in a woman; they take the look of pain for a sign of constancy or of love.
Lovers have a way of using this word, nothing, which implies exactly the opposite.
Love may be or it may not, but where it is, it ought to reveal itself in its immensity.
The habits of life form the soul, and the soul forms the countenance.
Political liberty, the peace of a nation, and science itself are gifts for which Fate demands a heavy tax in blood!
Great love affairs start with Champagne and end with tisane.
Marriage must incessantly contend with a monster that devours everything: familiarity.
Manners are the hypocrisy of a nation.
A flow of words is a sure sign of duplicity.
Chance, my dear, is the sovereign deity in child-bearing.