Lovers are never tired of each other, — they always speak of themselves. - François de La Rochefoucauld

Man is so wretched that, while he shapes all of his conduct to gratify his passions, he groans incessantly under their tyranny. He can endure neither their violence, nor the violence that he would have to inflict on himself in order to rid himself of their yoke. He is frustrated not only by his vices, but also by the things that would cure them; and he cannot come to terms either with the discomfort of his afflictions or with the task of curing himself.

On peut toujours ce qu’on veut, pourvu qu’on le veuille bien.

The accent of one's birthplace persists in the mind and heart as much as in speech.