Great men lose somewhat of their greatness by being near us; ordinary men gain much.

When a woman hath ceased to be quite the same to us, it matters little how different she becomes.

The vain poet is of the opinion that nothing of his can be too much: he sends to you basketful after basketful of juiceless fruit, covered with scentless flowers.

No friendship is so cordial or so delicious as that of girl for girl; no hatred so intense and immovable as that of woman for woman.

Circumstances form the character; but, like petrifying matters, they harden while they form.

Where power is absent we may find the robe of genius, but we miss the throne.

No ashes are lighter than those of incense, and few things burn out sooner.