Outside of Paris, there is no hope for the cultured.
All extremes does perfect reason flee, And wishes to be wise quite soberly.
The absence of the beloved, short though it may last, always lasts too long.
Doubts are more cruel than the worst of truths. It is not only for what we do that we are held responsible, but also for what we do not do. A lover whose passion is extreme loves even the faults of the beloved
The proof of true love is to be unsparing in criticism.
Cover that bosom that I must not see: souls are wounded by such things.