The face of tyranny Is always mild at first.
Wrinkles on the brow are the imprints of exploits.
Sir, that much prudence calls for too much worry; I cannot foresee misfortunes so far away.
According as the man is, so must you humour him.
Love is not a fire to be shut up in a soul. Everything betrays us: voice, silence, eyes; half-covered fires burn all the brighter.
Flight is lawful, when one flies from tyrants.