Friendship is far more tragic than love. It lasts longer.
Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.
For your brother and my sister no sooner met, but they looked; no sooner looked, but they loved; no sooner loved, but they sighed; no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy.
For whom will a woman lie? Sometimes for herself, usually for the man she loves, always for her children.
For what is love itself, for the one we love best? – an enfolding of immeasurable cares which yet are better than any joys outside our love.
For this is hardest of all: to close the open hand out of love, and keep modest as a giver.[Diess nämlich ist das Schwerste, aus Liebe die offne Hand schliessen und als Schenkender die Scham bewahren.]
For the sake of goodness and love, man shall let death have no sovereignty over his thoughts.
For anyone to love a man, he must be hidden, for as soon as he shows his face, love is gone.[Чтобы полюбить человека, надо чтобы тот спрятался, а чуть лишь покажет лицо свое – пропала любовь.]
First love is only a little foolishness and a lot of curiosity.
Few people, when they love no longer, but feel shame for having loved.[Il n’y a guère de gens qui ne soient honteux de s’être aimés quand ils ne s’aiment plus.]
Falling in love is the one illogical adventure, the one thing of which we are tempted to think as supernatural, in our trite and reasonable world.
Exceeds man’s might; that dwells with gods above.
