There Is Only One Kind Of Love,

There Is No Accident So Unfortunate But Wise Men Will Make Some Advantage Of It, Nor Any So Entirely Fortunate But Fools May Turn It To Their Own Prejudice.

In Misfortune We Often Mistake Dejection For Constancy; We Bear It Without Daring To Look On It; Like Cowards, Who Suffer Themselves To Be Murdered Without Resistance.

To Know Oneself Is Not Necessarily To Improve Oneself

Whatever Distrust We May Have Of The Sincerity Of Those Who Converse With Us, We Always Believe They Will Tell Us More Truth Than They Do To Others.

The First Lover Is Kept A Long While, When No Offer Is Made Of A Second.