A celibate, like the fly in the heart of an apple, dwells in a perpetual sweetness, but sits alone, and is confined and dies in singularity.

If anger proceeds from a great cause, it turns to fury if from a small cause, it is peevishness and so is always either terrible or ridiculous.

Love is friendship set on fire.

Secrecy is the chastity of friendship.

He that loves not his wife and children feeds a lioness at home, and broods a nest of sorrows.