All is asleep: the army, the wind, and Neptune.
He who will travel far spares his steed.
The face of tyranny Is always mild at first.
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.
She wavers, she hesitates; in one word — she is a woman.
Felicity is in possession, happiness in anticipation.