What Is Art? Nature Concentrated.

There Are No Little Events With The Heart. It Magnifies Everything; It Places In The Same Scales The Fall Of An Empire Of Fourteen Years And The Dropping Of A Woman's Glove, And Almost Always The Glove Weighs More Than The Empire.

Good Befalls Us While We Sleep, Sometimes.

God Is The Poet; Men Are But The Actors. The Great Dramas Of Earth Were Written In Heaven.

To Feel, To Love, To Suffer, To Devote Herself, Will Always Be The Text Of The Life Of Woman.

I Should Like One Of These Days To Be So Well Known, So Popular, So Celebrated, So Famous, That It Would Permit Me . . . To Break Wind In Society, And Society Would Think It A Most Natural Thing.