Soon we will plunge ourselves into cold shadows, and all of summer's stunning afternoons will be gone. I already hear the dead thuds of logs below falling on the cobblestones and the lawn.
Nothing can be done except little by little.
A sweetheart is a bottle of wine, a wife is a wine bottle.
A multitude of small delights constitute happiness
A silent mouth is sweet to hear.
The old Paris is no more (the form of a city changes faster, alas! than a mortal's heart).