Midnight, and love, and youth, and Italy!

The higher the rank the less pretence, because there is less to pretend to.

Ah, what without a heaven would be even love!--a perpetual terror of the separation that must one day come.

The Italians have voices like peacocks - German gives me a cold in the head - and Russian is nothing but sneezing

Fiction may be said to be the caricature of history.

I was always an early riser. Happy the man who is! Every morning day comes to him with a virgin's love, full of bloom and freshness. The youth of nature is contagious, like the gladness of a happy child.

We must remember how apt man is to extremes--rushing from credulity and weakness to suspicion and distrust.