When we are in love we often doubt that which we most believe.

That good disposition which boasts of being most tender is often stifled by the least urging of self-interest.

True love is like ghosts, which everyone talks about and few have seen.

There is no disguise which can hide love for long where it exists, or simulate it where it does not.

It is not in the power of even the most crafty dissimulation to conceal love long, where it really is, nor to counterfeit it long where it is not.

We are more often treacherous through weakness than through calculation.