It is in this book of hers that Sand prints such illuminating epigrams as these: 

“There are great errors which are nearer the truth than little truths.”

“The most beautiful creations of genius are those which succeed to the epoch of the passions.  The experience of life ought to precede art; art requires repose, and does not suit with the storms of the heart.  The finest mountains of our globe are extinguished volcanoes.”

“If you wish to arrive at truth, be reconciled to what is contrary; the white light only results from the union of the coloured rays of the spectrum.”

“The oyster boasts and says:  ‘I have never gone astray,’ Alas, poor oyster! thou hast never walked.”

When Liszt had made his concert trip to Paris, the comtesse had awaited him at Sand’s home.  Then, after his famous duel with Thalberg—­the weapons being pianos—­he joined the group at Nohant, where Chopin and Sand, and Liszt and D’Agoult, and such guests as they gathered there, led a life of elaborate entertainment which made Nohant as famous as another Trianon.  Meanwhile, there was going on a duel, the weapons of which were not pianos, but those invisible stilettos with which two women conduct a deadly feud, and politely tear each other’s eyes out.  George Sand was famous then beyond her present-day esteem, and she was a woman of vigour almost masculine and of a straightforwardness which was almost an affectation.  She loved to go about in boots and blouse, and to ride bareback; she smoked cigars, and wrote at night.  The Comtesse d’Agoult was eminently feminine.  She would rather have spent one thousand francs on a gown than on anything else under heaven, except another gown.  She had in her certain literary capabilities, not very marvellous, to be sure, but strong enough to provoke jealousy of the overpraised Sand, who had also, incidentally, been on very intimate terms with the present lover of the comtesse.

Unhappy is the lover who tries to play peacemaker between two of his mistresses.  This is enough to bring lava from any “extinguished volcano.”  Liszt, after almost vain efforts to avoid downright hair-pulling, decided to take the comtesse away from Nohant.  He seems to have sided with her against Sand, and said afterward:  “I did not care to expose myself to her insolence” (sottise).  Chopin, however, took sides with Sand, and it is said that his heart chilled toward Liszt, who spoke bitterly of this estrangement, but on Chopin’s death wrote a biographical sketch full of affection, and of an admiration better balanced than the over-flowery style which marks all of Liszt’s writings.