Men are the sport of circumstances, when the circumstances seem the sport of men.
Man’s love is of man’s life a thing apart, ‘T is woman’s whole existence.
Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; the best of life is but intoxication.
Life’s enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.
Let none think to fly the danger, for soon or late Love is his own avenger.
In her first passion woman loves her lover, in all the others all she loves is love.
I should be very willing to redress men’s wrongs, and rather check than punish crimes, had not Cervantes, in that too true tale of Quixote, shown how all such efforts fail.
I live not in myself, but I become portion of that around me; and to me, high mountains are a feeling, but the hum of human cities torture.
He who surpasses or subdues mankind, must look down on the hate of those below.
Hatred is by far the longest pleasure; men love in haste, but they detest at leisure.
For pleasures past I do not grieve, nor perils gathering near; my greatest grief is that I leave no thing that claims a tear.
Fame is the thirst of youth.
