In pitying me he forgot himself
     In every age we laugh at the costume of our fathers
     In times like these we must see all and say all
     It is not now what it used to be
     It is too true that virtue also has its blush
     Lofty ideal of woman and of love
     Men are weak, and there are things which women must accomplish
     Money is not a common thing between gentlemen like you and me
     Monsieur, I know that I have lived too long
     Neither idealist nor realist
     Never interfered in what did not concern him
     No writer had more dislike of mere pedantry
     Offices will end by rendering great names vile
     Princes ought never to be struck, except on the head
     Princesses ceded like a town, and must not even weep
     Principle that art implied selection
     Recommended a scrupulous observance of nature
     Remedy infallible against the plague and against reserve
     Reproaches are useless and cruel if the evil is done
     Should be punished for not having known how to punish
     So strongly does force impose upon men
     Tears for the future
     The great leveller has swung a long scythe over France
     The most in favor will be the soonest abandoned by him
     The usual remarks prompted by imbecility on such occasions
     These ideas may serve as opium to produce a calm
     They tremble while they threaten
     They have believed me incapable because I was kind
     They loved not as you love, eh? 
     This popular favor is a cup one must drink
     This was the Dauphin, afterward Louis XIV
     True talent paints life rather than the living
     Truth, I here venture to distinguish from that of the True
     Urbain Grandier
     What use is the memory of facts, if not to serve as an example
     Woman is more bitter than death, and her arms are like chains
     Yes, we are in the way here