The generality of virtuous women are like hidden treasures, they are safe only because nobody has sought after them.
Francois De La RochefoucauldRead
There are very few people who are not ashamed of having been in love when they no longer love each other.
Interpretation
Love can bring joy, but it often leaves feelings of shame or regret when it fades.
This quote by Francois De La Rochefoucauld highlights the complex emotions that often accompany love. While love can be a beautiful experience, the aftermath of lost love may lead individuals to feel embarrassment or shame about what they once felt, especially when reflecting on it in a different emotional context.
In practice
In a speech about the complexities of love during a relationship workshop.
The generality of virtuous women are like hidden treasures, they are safe only because nobody has sought after them.
Old men delight in giving good advice as a consolation for the fact that they can no longer set bad examples.
Some counterfeits reproduce so very well the truth that it would be a flaw of judgment not to be deceived by them.
Conceit causes more conversation than wit.
The defects and faults of the mind are like wounds in the body; after all imaginable care has been taken to heal them up, still there will be a scar left behind, and they are in continual danger of breaking the skin and bursting out again.
To understand matters rightly we should understand their details; and as that knowledge is almost infinite, our knowledge is always superficial and imperfect.
From that moment our love became sad, and sadness is a disease which gives the death-blow to affection.
Eternity was in our lips and eyes,_x000D_ _x000D_ Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so poor_x000D_ _x000D_ But was a race of heaven.
The greatest distance in this World is not that between living and death, it is when I am just before you, and you don't know that I Love You.
Hatred will always give birth to more and more hate, and love has the power to demolish the borders between us.
When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo; O, word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear.
Woman is sacred; the woman one loves is holy.
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