Love is like fever; it comes and goes without the will having any part of the process.
Signs cannot be represented, in a spy's report, so damningly as words.
Any man who talks about his love affairs thereby proves he is ignorant of love and is moved only by vanity.
Life is too short, and the time we waste in yawning never can be regained.
Love is a well from which we can drink only as much as we have put in, and the stars that shine from it are only our eyes looking in.
I am mad, I am going under, I must follow the advice of a friend, and pay no heed to myself.