Love, Like Fire, Goes Out Without Fuel.

We Almost Always Forgive Those We Understand.

Passions Are Merely Ideas In Their Initial Stage.

A Strange Thing, The Human Heart In General, And Woman's Heart In Particular.

There Are Two Men In Me--one Lives In The Full Sense Of The Word, The Other Reasons And Passes Judgment On The First. The First Will Perhaps Take Leave Of You And The World Forever In An Hour Now; And The Second . . . The Second?

I Have A Congenital Desire To Contradict; My Whole Life Is Merely A Chain Of Sad And Unsuccessful Contradictions To Heart And Mind. When Faced With Enthusiasm, I Am Seized By A Midwinter Freeze, And I Suppose That Frequent Dealings With Sluggish Phlegmatics Would Have Made A Passionate Dreamer.