The face that cannot smile is never fair.
Fortune gives too much to many, enough to none.
I believe that man to be wretched whom none can please.
While you remain at home your hair is at the hairdresser's; you take out your teeth at night and sleep tucked away in a hundred cosmetics boxes - even your face does not sleep with you.
It is feeling and force of imagination that make us eloquent.
He who writes distichs, wishes, I suppose, to please by brevity. But, tell me, of what avail is their brevity, when there is a whose book full of them?