our supreme illusion
     Break in his memory, like a book with several leaves torn out
     Brilliancy of a fortune too new
     Brought them up to poverty
     Bullets are not necessarily on the side of the right
     But above these ruins rises a calm and happy face
     But she thinks she is affording you pleasure
     But how avenge one’s self on silence? 
     But if this is our supreme farewell, do not tell me so! 
     But she will give me nothing but money
     Came not in single spies, but in battalions
     Camors refused, hesitated, made objections, and consented
     Can any one prevent a gossip
     Carn-ival means, literally, “farewell to flesh!”
     Chain so light yesterday, so heavy to-day
     Charm of that one day’s rest and its solemnity
     Clashing knives and forks mark time
     Clumsily, blew his nose, to the great relief of his two arms
     Coffee is the grand work of a bachelor’s housekeeping
     Cold silence, that negative force
     Conditions of blindness so voluntary that they become complicity
     Confidence in one’s self is strength, but it is also weakness
     Confounding progress with discord, liberty with license
     Conscience is a bad weighing-machine
     Conscience is only an affair of environment and of education
     Consented to become a wife so as not to remain a maiden
     Consoled himself with one of the pious commonplaces
     Contempt for men is the beginning of wisdom
     Contemptuous pride of knowledge
     Contemptuous pity, both for my suspicions and the cause of them
     Contrive to use proud disdain as a shield
     Convent of Saint Joseph, four shoes under the bed! 
     Cowardly in trouble as he had been insolent in prosperity
     Cried out, with the blunt candor of his age
     Curious to know her face of that day
     Dangers of liberty outweighed its benefits
     Dare now to be silent when I have told you these things
     Daylight is detrimental to them
     Death is more to be desired than a living distaste for life
     Death is not that last sleep
     Death, that faithful friend of the wretched
     Deeming every sort of occupation beneath him
     Defeat and victory only displace each other by turns
     Demanded of him imperatively—­the time of day
     Deny the spirit of self-sacrifice
     Despair of a man sick of life, or the whim of a spoiled child
     Despotic tone which a woman assumes when sure of her empire
     Despotism natural to puissant personalities
     Determined to cultivate ability rather than scrupulousness
     Did not think the world was so great
     Difference which I find between Truth in art and the True in fac
     Disappointed her to escape the danger she had feared
     Disenchantment which follows possession
     Distrust first impulse