Everything can be borne except contempt.
He was my equal in beauty, a paragon of grace and charm, sparkling with wit, and burning with love. I adored him to distraction, to the point of idolatry: I loved him as one can never love twice.
It is with books as with men: a very small number play a great part.
We adore, we invoke, we seek to appease, only that which we fear.
Prejudices are what rule the vulgar crowd.
Very often, say what you will, a knave is only a fool.