Love is a game in which one always cheats.
No navigator has yet traced lines of latitude and longitude on the conjugal sea.
If we could but paint with the hand what we see with the eye.
Death unites as well as separates; it silences all paltry feeling.
A woman in love has full intelligence of her power; the more virtuous she is, the more effective her coquetry.
Where some one else's welfare is concerned, a young girl becomes as ingenious as a thief. Guileless where she herself is in question, and full of foresight for me,-she is like a heavenly angel forgiving the strange incomprehensible sins of earth.