He writes nothing whose writings are not read.

I would not miss your face, your neck, your hands, your limbs, your bosom and certain other of your charms. Indeed, not to become boring by naming them all, I could do without you, Chloe, altogether.

Gifts are like fish-hooks; for who is not aware that the greedy char is deceived by the fly which he swallows?

There is nothing more revolting than an old busybody.

Of no day can the retrospect cause pain to a good man.

I have granted you much that you asked: and yet you never cease to ask of me. He who refuses nothing, Atticilla, will soon have nothing to refuse.

While you cannot resolve what you are, at last you may be nothing.