Innocence Is Not Accustomed To Blush. [fr.,

One Easily Bears Moral Reproof, But Never Mockery.

The Maturing Process Of Becoming A Writer Is Akin To That Of A Harlot. First You Do It For Love, Then For A Few Friends, And Finally Only For Money.

I Have A Heart To Love All The World; And Like Alexander I Wish There Were Yet Other Worlds, So I Could Carry Even Further My Amorous Conquests.

Time Has Nothing To Do With The Matter.

There Are Pretenders To Piety As Well As To Courage.