We Rarely Repent Of Speaking Little, But

I Never Have Wit Until I Am Below Stairs. [fr., Je N'ai Jamais D'esprit Qu'au Bas De L'escalier.]

It Is Weakness Which Makes Us Hate An Enemy And Seek Revenge, And It Is Idleness That Pacifies Us And Causes Us To Neglect It.

To Be Among People One Loves, That's Sufficient; To Dream, To Speak To Them, To Be Silent Among Them, To Think Of Indifferent Things; But Among Them, Everything Is Equal.

Dissimulation, Even The Most Innocent In Its Nature, Is Ever Productive Of Embarrassment; Whether The Design Is Evil Or Not Artifice Is Always Dangerous And Almost Inevitably Disgraceful.

For A Long Time Visits Among Lovers And Professions Of Love Are Kept Up Through Habit, After Their Behavior Has Plainly Proved That Love No Longer Exists.