If Folly Disappeared, Wit Would Starve.

The Ravaged Face In The Mirror Hides The Enchanting Youth That Is The Real Me.

Profusion Gives Pleasure Up To A Point; Then We Become Squeamish.

Clothes Make The Body Both Mysterious And Historical.

I Can Neither Return Your Love Nor Dismiss It.

The Wretchedness Of Failure Is The Great Attraction Of Success.