Man Is A Free Agent; But He

As To The Deceit Perpetrated Upon Women, Let It Pass, For, When Love Is In The Way, Men And Women As A General Rule Dupe Each Other.

I Loved, I Was Loved, My Health Was Good, I Had A Great Deal Of Money, And I Spent It, I Was Happy And I Confessed It To Myself.

Real Love Is The Love That Sometimes Arises After Sensual Pleasure: If It Does, It Is Immortal; The Other Kind Inevitably Goes Stale, For It Lies In Mere Fantasy.

By Recollecting The Pleasures I Have Had Formerly, I Renew Them, I Enjoy Them A Second Time, While I Laugh At The Remembrance Of Troubles Now Past, And Which I No Longer Feel.

From That Moment Our Love Became Sad, And Sadness Is A Disease Which Gives The Death-blow To Affection.