Out of five hundred who speak glibly of love, not one can spell the first letter of his name.

Whoever wants to tell a variety of stories ought to have a variety of beginnings.

For what the lover would, that would the beloved; what she would ask of him that should he go before to grant. Without accord such as this, love is but a bond and a constraint.

But sweetly and discreetly love passes from person to person, from heart to heart, or it is nothing worth.

Out of five hundred who speak glibly of love, not one can spell the first letter of his name.

We love what we should scorn if we were wiser.

You have to endure what you can't change.