“There is only one kind of love, but there are a thousand imitations.”

One can find women who have never had one love affair, but it is rare indeed to find any who have had only one.

As one grows older, one becomes wiser and more foolish.

There is no disguise which can hide love for long where it exists, or simulate it where it does not.

On neither the sun, nor death, can a man look fixedly.

If we are to judge of love by its consequences, it more nearly resembles hatred than friendship.

There are heroes in evil as well as in good.

The surest way to be deceived is to consider oneself cleverer than others.

Innocence does not find near so much protection as guilt.

We are more interested in making others believe we are happy than in trying to be happy ourselves.

One is never fortunate or as unfortunate as one imagines.

Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires.

That good disposition which boasts of being most tender is often stifled by the least urging of self-interest.

Old people love to give good advice; it compensates them for their inability to set a bad example.

Gracefulness is to the body what understanding is to the mind.

We get so much in the habit of wearing disguises before others that we finally appear disguised before ourselves.

Not all those who know their minds know their hearts as well.

The man whom nature’s self had made to mock herself, and truth to imitate.

There are things I am more interested in than the clone thing. How are they trying to find their place in the world and make sense of their lives? To what extent can they transcend their fate? As time starts to run out, what are the things that really matter?

There are three ways of learning golf: by study, which is the most wearisome; by imitation, which is the most fallacious; and by experience, which is the most bitter.

The inflated imitations of gold and silver, which after the rapture are thrown into the fire, all is exhausted and dissipated by the debt. All scrips and bonds are wiped out. At the fourth pillar dedicated to Saturn, split by earthquake and flood: vexing everyone, an urn of gold is found and then restored.

Before we can realize who we really are, we must become conscious of the fact that the person we think we are, here and now, is at best an impostor and a stranger.

The joy a person is usually seen to express at the conversion of another to his opinion is seldom more than the impulse of egotistical satisfaction at being considered worthy of didactic imitation.

Do something wonderful, people may imitate it.

Live your own destiny imperfectly than to live an imitation of somebody.