He that knew all that learning ever writ, Knew only this - that he knew nothing yet. |
Each moment of a happy lover's hour is worth an age of dull and common life. |
One hour of right-down love is worth an age of dully living on. |
Love ceases to be a pleasure when it ceases to be a secret. |
There is no sinner like a young saint. |
Faith, sir, we are here today, and gone tomorrow. |
Nothing is more capable of troubling our reason, and consuming our health, than secret notions of jealousy in solitude. |
That perfect tranquillity of life, which is nowhere to be found but in retreat, a faithful friend and a good library. |
Variety is the soul of pleasure. |
Money speaks sense in a language all nations understand. |