A mother's life, you see, is one long succession of dramas, now soft and tender, now terrible. Not an hour but has its joys and fears.
Manners are the hypocrisy of a nation.
Marriage is a fierce battle before which the two partners ask heaven for its blessing, because loving each other is the most audacious of enterprises; the battle is not slow to start, and victory, that is to say freedom, goes to the cleverest.
At fifteen, beauty and talent do not exist; there can only be promise of the coming woman.
Excess of joy is harder to bear than any amount of sorrow.
