If We Could But Paint With The

True Love Is Mixed Up With Birdlike Squabbles, In Which The Disputants Wound Each Other To The Quick; But A Quarrel Without Animus Is, On The Contrary, Apiece Of Flattery To The Dupe's Conceit.

Rare Is The Man Who Suffers No Remorse As He Passes From The State Of Confidant To That Of Rival.

But Woman Brings Disorder Into Society Through Passion.

Whereas Scoundrels Become Reconciled After Knifing One Another, Lovers Break Up Irrevocably Over A Mere Glance Or Word.

Solitude Is Fine, But You Need Someone To Tell You That Solitude Is Fine.