True love is mixed up with birdlike squabbles, in which the disputants wound each other to the quick; but a quarrel without animus is, on the contrary, apiece of flattery to the dupe's conceit.

When there is an old maid in the house, a watchdog is unnecessary.

Materialism and spirituality are two pretty racquets with which charlatans in cap and gown make the same ball fly.

One hour of love has a whole life in it.

Incurable wounds are those inflicted by tongue and eye, by mockery and disdain.

We do not wish success yet we obtain it. Always we find what we are not looking for. These words are too true not to become a proverb some day.

Only when one has learned to acknowledge that wiser minds have made better words to come out of our mouths may we truly, then, begin to speak them.