“Ah, Sir, a novel is a mirror carried along a high road. At one moment it reflects to your vision the azure skies, at another the mire of the puddles at your feet. And the man who carries this mirror in his pack will be accused by you of being immoral! His mirror shews the mire, and you blame the mirror! Rather blame that high road upon which the puddle lies, still more the inspector of roads who allows the water to gather and the puddle to form.”

“Ah, Sir, a novel is a mirror carried along a high road. At one moment it reflects to your vision the azure skies, at another the mire of the puddles at your feet. And the man who carries this mirror in his pack will be accused by you of being immoral! His mirror shews the mire, and you blame the mirror! Rather blame that high road upon which the puddle lies, still more the inspector of roads who allows the water to gather and the puddle to form.”

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

“Friendship has its illusions no less than love.”

“The man of genius is he and he alone who finds such joy in his art that he will work at it come hell or high water.”

“Only great minds can afford a simple style.”

“All religions are founded on the fear of the many and the cleverness of the few.”

“The pleasures of love are always in proportion to our fears.”

“Power, after love, is the first source of happiness.”

“To describe happiness is to diminish it.”

“The more a race is governed by its passions, the less it has acquired the habit of cautious and reasoned argument, the more intense will be its love of music.”

“True love makes the thought of death frequent, easy, without terrors; it merely becomes the standard of comparison, the price one would pay for many things.”