There are few people who would not be ashamed of being loved when they love no longer.

When the soul is ruffled by the remains of one passion, it is more disposed to entertain a new one than when it is entirely curedand at rest from all.

The intellect is always fooled by the heart.

Pity is often a reflection of our own evils in the ills of others. It is a delicate foresight of the troubles into which we may fall.

It is difficult to define love; all we can say is, that in the soul it is a desire to rule, in the mind it is a sympathy, and in the body it is a hidden and delicate wish to possess what we love-Plus many mysteries.

A man's worth has its season, like fruit.

Those great and glorious actions that dazzle our eyes with their luster are represented by statesmen as the result of great wisdomand excellent design; whereas, in truth, they are commonly the effects of the humors and passions.