“I maintain, in truth, That with a smile we should instruct our youth, Be very gentle when we have to blame, And not put them in fear of virtue’s name.”

The only people who can be excused for letting a bad book loose on the world are the poor devils who have to write for a living.

Ah, there are no longer any children!

When there is enough to eat for eight, there is plenty for ten.

Folk whose own behavior is most ridiculous are always to the fore in slandering others.

If everyone were clothed with integrity, if every heart were just, frank, kindly, the other virtues would be well-nigh useless.

He makes his cook his merit, and the world visits his dinners and not him.

Grammar, which can govern even Kings.

A learned fool is more a fool than an ignorant fool.

Doubts are more cruel than the worst of truths. It is not only for what we do that we are held responsible, but also for what we do not do. A lover whose passion is extreme loves even the faults of the beloved.

Debts are nowadays like children begot with pleasure, but brought forth in pain.

It is a fine seasoning for joy to think of those we love.

Reasoning is the pastime of my whole household, and all this reasoning has driven out Reason.

The art of flatterers is to take advantage of the foibles of the great, to foster their errors, and never to give advice which may annoy.

A woman always has her revenge ready.

I have the knack of easing scruples.

Its as if you think you’d never find Reason and the Sacred intertwined.

I know we don’t talk anymore, but I still whisper your name to the moon.

I loved her. I loved her with a something so fierce I couldn’t even name it.

I give the name violence to a boldness lying idle and enamored of danger.

I heard my name.” Ash’s voice startles me. “You tow better not be making fun of me about this stupid bra Mama’s making me wear. I’ve had it with the jokes. I’ll break both your noses if it doesn’t stop.

Erotic play discloses a nameless world which is revealed by the nocturnal language of lovers. Such language is not written down. It is whispered into the ear at night in a hoarse voice. At dawn it is forgotten.

Traitors! I shall oppose you in the name of the Han!

We write our names in the sand: and then the waves roll in and wash them away.

Your name is a song my thoughts dance on until they reach the tip of my quill.