I have a bad memory for facts.

In love, unlike most other passions, the recollection of what you have had and lost is always better than what you can hope for in the future.

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.

Pleasure is often spoiled by describing it.

The only unhappiness is a life of boredom.

Politics in the middle of things of the imagination is like a pistol shot in the middle of a concert.

The pleasures of love are always in proportion to our fears.