We Seldom Repent Talking Little, But Very

This Great Misfortune, To Be Incapable Of Solitude.

Days, Months, Years Fly Away, And Irrecoverably Sink In The Abyss Of Time.

He Who Has Lived A Day Has Lived An Age.

A Vain Man Finds His Account In Speaking Good Or Evil Of Himself.

The Beginning And The End Of Love Are Both Marked By Embarrassment When The Two Find Themselves Alone. [fr., Le Commencement Et Le Declin De L'amour Se Font Sentir Par L'embarras Ou L'on Est De Se Trouver Seuls.]