* * * * *

Men who would face a cannon, tremble before a golden calf.

* * * * *

There is no music for man so sweet as that set upon a woman’s tongue.

* * * * *

I never could understand why doleful songs should herald a joyous hereafter.

* * * * *

If you keep your eyes fixed upon the stars you will fall into the first mill pond.

* * * * *

You are told, “That if you violate a sacrament of the church you will howl in hell for it.”  You know that if you violate nature’s laws you will howl here.

* * * * *

While poverty spins threads of gold with which to weave a garment to cover her nakedness, the plutocrat melts the threads into sovereigns for his own use.

* * * * *

Every yellow stream is not the Tiber.

* * * * *

The wise man dreads, not noise, but eternal silence.

* * * * *

Loud complaints may be only vents for little ills.

* * * * *

It is not enough to conceive a truth, we must act.

* * * * *

When one is bereft of hope the last sorrow has arrived.

* * * * *

The woman who loves not flattery has yet to be born.

* * * * *

This must be a golden age—­everybody is running after it.

* * * * *

Beauty is the recompense given to women for her weakness.

* * * * *

Some sins squeak like a snared rabbit—­others roar like a lion.

* * * * *

An immaculate reputation may hide a multitude of black lies.

* * * * *

Angels walk on threads of gold from heaven to earth.  These threads are only spun in the loom of the human heart.

* * * * *

Abject spirits creep—­men walk.

* * * * *

A small hole is a cavern to a mole.

* * * * *

A kiss hangs not long on a pretty lip.

* * * * *

You cannot rear a new babe on old milk.

* * * * *

A man may woo a dove and marry a screech owl.

* * * * *

Satire is a javelin which pierces the thickest skin.

* * * * *

A mist may hide the sun but it does not blot it out.

* * * * *

Some women prefer a great infamy to a little honour.