What baffled him was that there should be all this fuss about something so simple as love.

To be simple is no small matter.

When she had thus for a while struck the flint on her heart without getting a spark, incapable, moreover, of understanding what she did not experience as of believing anything that did not present itself in conventional forms she persuaded herself without difficulty that Charles's passion was nothing very exorbitant.

Everything measurable passes, everything that can be counted has an end. Only three things are infinite: the sky in its stars, the sea in its drops of water, and the heart in its tears.

Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings.

It’s hard to communicate anything exactly and that’s why perfect relationships between people are difficult to find.