Dissembling profiteth nothing; a feigned countenance, and slightly forged externally, deceiveth but very few.
He who has fostered the sweet poison of love by fondling it, finds it too late to refuse the yoke which he has of his own accord assumed.
Real improvement is of slow growth only.
Light troubles speak; the weighty are struck dumb.
Death is a punishment to some, to others a gift and to many a favour.
Who can hope for nothing, should despair for nothing.