There is a slowness in affairs which ripens them, and a slowness which rots them.
As long as we love, we lend to the beloved object qualities of mind and heart which we deprive him of when the day of misunderstanding arrives.
Literature was formerly an art and finance a trade; today it is the reverse.
Friendship admits of difference of character, as love does that of sex.
Our experience is composed rather of illusions lost than of wisdom acquired.
What is love? two souls and one flesh; friendship? two bodies and one soul.