Masterpieces Are Only Lucky Attempts.

A Woman's Heart Has No Wrinkles.

We Do Not Precisely Enjoy Liberty At The Figaro. M. De Latouche, Our Worthy Director (ah! You Should Know The Fellow), Is Always Hanging Over Us, Cutting, Pruning, Right Or Wrong, Imposing Upon Us His Whims, His Aberrations, His Fancies, And We Have To Write As He Bids.

God Has Written In The Law Of Nature That When Two People Are Joined In Love Or Friendship, One Must Always Give His Heart More Perfectly Than The Other.

... When We Are Misunderstood It Is Always Our Own Fault. What The Reader Wants Most Of All Is To Be Able To Grasp What We Think; But You Loftily Refuse To Comply.

Discouragement Seizes Us Only When We Can No Longer Count On Chance.