Words are the weak support of cold indifference; love has no language to be heard.
If happiness in self-content is placed, The wise are wretched, and fools only blessed.
I always take blushing either for a sign of guilt, or of ill breeding.
There are times when sense may be unseasonable, as well as truth.
A little scorn is alluring.
No, I'm no enemy to learning; it hurts not me.