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Love ceases to be a pleasure when it ceases to be a secret.
Each moment of a happy lover’s hour is worth an age of dull and common life.
He that knew all that learning ever writ, Knew only this – that he knew nothing yet.
Nothing is more capable of troubling our reason, and consuming our health, than secret notions of jealousy in solitude.
Faith, sir, we are here today, and gone tomorrow.