The maturing process of becoming a writer is akin to that of a harlot. First you do it for love, then for a few friends, and finally only for money.
The more we love our friends, the less we flatter them; it is by excusing nothing that pure love shows itself.
Man, I can assure you, is a nasty creature.
Oh, how fine it is to know a thing or two.
unbroken happiness is a bore: it should have ups and downs.
Malicious men may die, but malice never.