A woman knows the face of the man she loves as a sailor knows the open sea.

Poetry is only born after painful journeys into the vast regions of thought.

Rare is the man who suffers no remorse as he passes from the state of confidant to that of rival.

Any man, however blase or depraved, finds his love kindled anew when he sees himself threatened by a rival.

Vice is perhaps a desire to learn everything.

As a rule, only the poor are generous.

Show me the woman, however loyal, who does not seek to rouse desire.