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It is with an old love as it is with old age a man lives to all the miseries, but is dead to all the pleasures.
However rare true love may be, it is less so than true friendship.
Jealousy contains more of self-love than of love.
There is only one kind of love, but there are a thousand imitations.
There is no disguise which can hide love for long where it exists, or simulate it where it does not.
True love is like ghosts, which everyone talks about and few have seen.
Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires.
Jealousy lives upon doubts. It becomes madness or ceases entirely as soon as we pass from doubt to certainty.
What makes the pain we feel from shame and jealousy so cutting is that vanity can give us no assistance in bearing them.
Jealousy is bred in doubts. When those doubts change into certainties, then the passion either ceases or turns absolute madness.