Telling you the truth than adore me for telling you lies.

They merit more praise who know how to suffer misery than those who temper themselves in contentment.

I love you, and because I love you, I would sooner have you hate me for telling you the truth than adore me for telling you lies.

The art of war is like the art of the courtesan; indeed they might be called sisters, since both are slaves of desperation.

Age has a good mind and sorry shanks.

A high heart ought to bear calamities and not flee them, since in bearing them appears the grandeur of the mind and in fleeing them the cowardice of the heart.

Why should the eyes be denied what delights them most?