Each day my reason tells me so; But reason doesn't rule in love, you know.
My fair one, let us swear an eternal friendship.
Sometimes I feel something akin to rage At the corrupted morals of this age!
The impromptu reply is precisely the touchstone of the man of wit.
Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and then for money.
Nothing can be fairer, or more noble, than the holy fervor of true zeal.