By an image we hold on to our lost treasures, but it is the wrenching loss that forms the image, composes, binds the bouquet.
My true friends have always given me that supreme proof of devotion, a spontaneous aversion for the man I loved.
The lovesick, the betrayed, and the jealous all smell alike.
You do not notice changes in what is always before you.
No temptation can ever be measured by the value of its object.
Our perfect companions never have fewer than four feet.