There are no perfect women in the world; only hypocrites exhibit no defects.
Ennui, the parent of expensive and ruinous vices.
There is a certain time of life, when we value a good stomach more than the mind.
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.
Friendship should be in the singular; it can be no more plural than love.
Shall I tell you what makes love so dangerous? 'Tis the too high idea we are apt to form of it.