
Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; and every little absence is an age.

Love is not in our choice but in our fate.

You see through love, and that deludes your sight, As what is straight seems crooked through the water.

Words are but pictures of our thoughts.

When I consider life, it is all a cheat. Yet fooled with hope, people favor this deceit.

Only man clogs his happiness with care, destroying what is with thoughts of what may be.

Pains of love be sweeter far than all other pleasures are.

Reason is a crutch for age, but youth is strong enough to walk alone.

Seek not to know what must not be reveal, for joy only flows where fate is most concealed. A busy person would find their sorrows much more; if future fortunes were known before!

Successful crimes alone are justified.

Time, place, and action may with pains be wrought, but genius must be born; and never can be taught.

Happy the man, and happy he alone, he who can call today his own; he who, secure within, can say, tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.

It is madness to make fortune the mistress of events, because by herself she is nothing and is ruled by prudence.

Jealousy is the jaundice of the soul.

Let grace and goodness be the principal load stone of thy affections. For love which hath ends, will have an end; whereas that which is founded on true virtue, will always continue.

Like pilgrims to the appointed place we tend; The world's an inn, and death the journey's end.