Middle age snuffs out more talent than even wars or sudden death.

We confess our bad qualities to others out of fear of appearing naive or ridiculous by not being aware of them.

The cliche is dead poetry.

Words are as recalcitrant as circus animals, and the unskilled trainer can crack his whip at them in vain.

We should all live as if we were never going to die, for it is the deaths of our friends that hurt us, not our own.

Do not believe those persons who say they have never been jealous. What they mean is that they have never been in love.

We are closer to the ants than to the butterflies. Very few people can endure much leisure.