Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. >>
O curse of marriage that we can call these delicate creatures ours and >>
My library was dukedom large enough. >>
Real love stories never have endings. >>
Love alone can unite living beings so as to complete and fulfill them. >>
Love is made by two people, in different kinds of solitude. It can be >>
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see What petty follies they themselves commit