Man Is Free; But Not Unless He

Hope Is Nothing But A Deceitful Flatterer Accepted By Reason Only Because It Is Often In Need Of Palliatives.

Hatred, In The Course Of Time, Kills The Unhappy Wretch Who Delights In Nursing It In His Bosom.

Love Is A Great Poet, Its Resources Are Inexhaustible, But If The End It Has In View Is Not Obtained, It Feels Weary And Remains Silent.

The Sweetest Pleasures Are Those Which Are Hardest To Be Won.

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.