Suspicion is the cancer of friendship.

Death is a sleep that ends our dreaming. Oh, that we may be allowed to wake before death wakes us.

It is more honorable to be raised to a throne than to be born to one. Fortune bestows the one, merit obtains the other.

I freeze and burn, love is bitter and sweet, my sighs are tempests and my tears are floods, I am in ecstasy and agony, I am possessed by memories of her and I am in exile from myself.

Sameness is the mother of disgust, variety the cure.

Hope is incredible to the slave of grief.

How quick the old woe follows a little bliss!