Ennui, the parent of expensive and ruinous vices.
What is death, after all? We leave only mortals behind us.
Shall I tell you what makes love so dangerous? 'Tis the too high idea we are apt to form of it.
Hatred is nearly always honest--rarely, if ever, assumed. So much cannot be said for love.
It takes a hundred times more skill to make love than to command an army.
If a man needs a religion to conduct himself properly in this world, it is a sign that he has either a limited mind or a corrupt heart.