Men, in whatever anxiety they may be, if they are men, sometimes indulge in relaxation.

There is no grief which time does not lessen and soften.

In fact the whole passion ordinarily termed love (and heaven help me if I can think of any other term to apply to it) is of such exceeding triviality that I see nothing that I think comparable with it.

Hours and days and months and years go by; the past returns no more, and what is to be we cannot know; but whatever the time gives us in which we live, we should therefore be content.

If the truth were self-evident, eloquence would be unnecessary.

Nothing is difficult in the eyes of a lover.

Advice in old age is foolish; for what can be more absurd than to increase our provisions for the road the nearer we approach to our journey's end.