A woman's heart is such a complex problem - the owner thereof is often most incompetent to find the solution to this puzzle.

Even the worst moments and the weariest journeys must come to an end.

Fate is usually swift when she deals a blow.

When they are gay, the waves echo their gaiety but when they are sad, then every breaker, as it rolls, seems to bring additional sadness, and to speak to us of hopelessness and of the pettiness of all our joys.

We must prove to the world that we are all nincompoops

Odd's fish, m'dear! The man can't even tie his own cravat!

In the chain of my life, there were so many links, all of which tended towards bringing me to the fulfillment of my destiny.

It is only when we are very happy that we can bear to gaze merrily upon the vast and limitless expanse of water, rolling on and on with such persistent, irritating monotony, to the accompaniment of our thoughts, whether grave or gay.

When will you give up these mad adventures, and leave others to fight their own battles and to save their own lives as best they may?' When your ladyship has ceased to be the most admired woman in Europe, namely, when I am in my grave.

I take it, sir, that you do not approve of our new society. Approval, sir, in my opinion, demands the attainment of perfection. And in that sense, you rather overrate the charms of your society. I'faith, for one thing, it does seem monstrous ill-dressed for any society, even a new one.

Your mock saint who stands in a niche is not a woman if she have not suffered, still less a woman if she have not sinned. Fall at the feet of your idol as you wish, but drag her down to your level after that -- the only level she should ever reach, that of your heart.

There is such wonderful balm in self-imposed sacrifice.

Virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant when it is crushed.

I shall return, doubt it not. Such love as ours was not created to remain unfulfilled. Whatever may happen, believe and trust in me, as I shall in you, and keep the remembrance of me in your heart without sadness and without regret.

To love, for us men, is to clasp one woman with our arms, feeling that she lives and breathes just as we do, suffers as we do, thinks with us, loves with us, and, above all, sins with us.