My heavens! I've been talking prose for the last forty years without knowing it.
Gold gives to the ugliest thing a certain charming air, For that without it were else a miserable affair.
You are a fool in four letters, my son.
The great ambition of women is to inspire love.
You are my peace, my solace, my salvation.
The art of flatterers is to take advantage of the foibles of the great, to foster their errors, and never to give advice which may annoy.