Don't you remember that love, like medicine, is only the art of encouraging nature?

When one woman strikes at the heart of another, she seldom misses, and the wound is invariably fatal.

Truth to tell, the longer I live, the more I'm tempted to think that the only moderately worthwhile people in the world are you and I.

It has become necessary for me to have this woman, so as to save myself from the ridicule of being in love with her: for to what lengths will a man not be driven by thwarted desire?

...it is not for the illusion of a moment to govern the choice of a lifetime.

You may conquer her love of God: you will never overcome her fear of the devil.

How characteristic of your perverse heart that longs only for what happens to be out of reach.

It was there, in particular, that I confirmed the truth that love, which we cry up as the source of our pleasures, is nothing more than an excuse for them.

One must not permit oneself excesses, except with persons whom one wishes soon to leave.

Will you, then, never grow weary of being unjust?

Moreover it is easier, in the informality of conversation, to achieve that excitement and incoherence which is the true eloquence of love.

Losing you is most difficult for me, but the nature of my love for you is what matters. If it distorts into half-truth, then perhaps it is better not to love you. I must keep my mind but lose you.

Oh happy pessimists! What a joy it is to them to be able to prove again and again that there is no joy.

I realize I am alone and there is no one with me.Is this I wonder, how my whole life will be?

At least I know the truth, ” I gritted back. “I’m not the one who’s being lied to.” His brow furrowed, and I spat the truth at him.

Atheism leads to numerous absurdities promoted by otherwise intelligent people.

To adorn our characters by the charm of an amiable nature shows at once a lover of beauty and a lover of man.

I'm a firm believer in my higher power havin' a plan, and he's never wrong, and he's not open to suggestions.

Some people seem to be at peace-but in fact they're just resting up between fights.

I could pull all kinds of games on my mother. I couldn't pull any games on my father.

Augustine, Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath are confessional writers and all three make me sick. I have nothing in common with them.