Love, like fire, goes out without fuel.

Women only love men they don't know.

A strange thing, the human heart in general, and woman's heart in particular.

On her proud soul, I tell you, I have affixed my seal above; so from your cloister I repel you, this is my kingdom, here I love!

Nay, what is human love?—a stirringOf youthful blood to quicker flow,But love grows chiller, as recurringDays, years and decades, come and go.