There is as much difference between us and ourselves as there is between us and others.

If any one should importune me to give a reason why I loved him, I feel it could no otherwise be expressed than by making answer, ‘Because it was he; because it was I.' There is, beyond what I am able to say, I know not what inexplicable and inevitable power that brought on this union.

It is as though our very touch bore infection: things which in themselves are good and beautiful are corrupted by our handling of them.

Judgement can do without knowledge: but not knowledge without judgement.

We only labor to stuff the memory, and leave the conscience and the understanding unfurnished and void.

Glory and curiosity are the scourges of the soul; the last prompts us to thrust our noses into everything, the other forbids us to leave anything doubtful and undecided.

The other two are rich and noble; examples of virtue rarely make their home among people like that.

An untempted woman cannot boast of her chastity.

As for dying we can only assay that once; we are all apprentices when it comes to that.