Oaths are the counterfeit money with which we pay the sacrifice of love.
We should lay in a store of food, but never of pleasures; these should be gathered day by day.
The loss of friends is a tax on age!
Love never dies of starvation, but often of indigestion.
Old age is women's hell.
Who has not raised a tombstone, here and there, over buried hopes and dead joys, on the road of life? Like the scars of the heart, they are not to be obliterated.