How many wells of science there are in whose depths there is nothing but clear water!

In a better world we will find our young years and our old friends.

Experience unveils too late the snares laid for youth; it is the white frost which discovers the spider's web when the flies are no longer there to be caught.

There are wounds of self-love which one does not confess to one's dearest friends.

That prudery which survives youth and beauty resembles a scarecrow left in the fields after harvest.

In all that surrounds him the egotist sees only the frame of his own portrait.

In love we are not only liable to betray ourselves, but also the secrets of others.