We can recognize the dawn and the decline of love by the uneasiness we feel when alone together.
A vain man finds it wise to speak good or ill of himself; a modest man does not talk of himself.
Marriage, it seems, confines every man to his proper rank.
The exact contrary of what is generally believed is often the truth.
The Opera is obviously the first draft of a fine spectacle; it suggests the idea of one.
The sweetest of all sounds is that of the voice of the woman we love.
One mark of a second-rate mind is to be always telling stories.
At the beginning and at the end of love, the two lovers are embarrassed to find themselves alone.
Poverty may be the mother of crime, but lack of good sense is the father.
It is a sad thing when men have neither the wit to speak well nor the judgment to hold their tongues.