To Repair The Irreparable Ravages Of Time.

Honor, Without Money, Is A Mere Malady.

Sir, That Much Prudence Calls For Too Much Worry; I Cannot Foresee Misfortunes So Far Away.

None Love, But They Who Wish To Love.

I Have Pushed Virtue To Outright Brutality.

Love Is Not A Fire To Be Shut Up In A Soul. Everything Betrays Us: Voice, Silence, Eyes; Half-covered Fires Burn All The Brighter.