The truth is that men can have several sorts of pleasure. The true pleasure is the one for which they abandon the other..

Love is an incurable malady like those pathetic states in which rheumatism affords the sufferer a brief respite only to be replaced by epileptiform h….

Things don't change, but by and by our wishes change..

Perhaps the pleasure one feels in writing is not the infallible test of the literary value of a page; perhaps it is only a secondary state which is o….

There is probably not one person, however great his virtue, who cannot be led by the complexities of life's circumstances to a familiarity with the v….

Adultery breathes new life into marriages which have been left for dead..

Human altruism which is not egoism, is sterile..

Memory nourishes the heart, and grief abates..

We do not receive wisdom, we must discover it for ourselves, after a journey through the wilderness which no one else can make for us, which no one c….

Pleasures are like photographs: in the presence of the person we love, we take only negatives, which we develop later, at home, when we have at our d….

You can't learn the truth about a man's intentions by asking him..

Proust was the greatest novelist of the twentieth century, just as Tolstoy was in the nineteenth..

Our intellect is not the most subtle, the most powerful, the most appropriate, instrument for revealing the truth. It is life that, little by little,….

As soon as he ceased to be mad he became merely stupid. There are maladies we must not seek to cure because they alone protect us from others that ar….

Do you suppose that it is within your power to insult me? You evidently are not aware to whom you are speaking? Do you imagine that the envenomed spi….

As to the pretty girls who went past, from the day on which I had first known that their cheeks could be kissed, I had become curious about their sou….

The only thing that does not change is that at any and every time it appears that there have been great changes..

Le style, pour l'e crivain aussi bien que pour le peintre, est une question non de technique mais de vision. For the writer as well as for the paint….

The images selected by memory are as arbitrary, as narrow, as elusive as those which the imagination had formed and reality has destroyed. There is n….

Love is a reciprocal torture..

The bonds that unite us to another human being are sanctified when he or she adopts the same point of view as ourselves in judging one of our imperfe….