One Of The Greatest And

Other Men Are Known To Posterity Only Through The Medium Of History, Which Is Continually Growing Faint And Obscure; But The Intercourse Between The Author And His Fellow-men Is Ever New, Active, And Immediate.

He Who Wins A Thousand Common Hearts Is Entitled To Some Renown; But He Who Keeps Undisputed Sway Over The Heart Of A Coquette Is Indeed A Hero.

Into The Space Of One Little Hour Sins Enough May Be Conjured Up By Evil Tongues To Blast The Fame Of A Whole Life Of Virtue.

True Love Will Not Brook Reserve; It Feels Undervalued And Outraged, When Even The Sorrows Of Those It Loves Are Concealed From It.

Men Are Always Doomed To Be Duped, Not So Much By The Arts Of The Other As By Their Own Imagination. They Are Always Wooing Goddesses, And Marrying Mere Mortals.