If a pretty woman only knew how anger improved her beauty! Her complexion needs no other paint than indignation.

And yet, and yet, in these our ghostly lives, Half night, half day, half sleeping, half awake, How if our waking life, like that of sleep, Be all a dream in that eternal life To which we wake not till we sleep in death

Green is the prime color of the world, and that from which its loveliness arises.

How surely a knowledge of the world hardens the heart!

One may know how to gain a victory, and know not how to use it.

In this treacherous world Nothing is the truth nor a lie. Everything depends on the color Of the crystal through which one sees it

All must yield to the weight of years; conquest is not difficult for time.