Read moreChance, my dear, is the sovereign deity in child-bearing.
Read moreThe country is provincial; it becomes ridiculous when it tries to ape Paris.
Read moreTo those who have exhausted politics, nothing remains but abstract thought.
Read moreWhat is art? Nature concentrated.
Read moreThe habits of life form the soul, and the soul forms the countenance.
Read moreIf those who are the enemies of innocent amusements had the direction of the world, they would take away the spring, and youth, the former from the year, the latter from human life.