Love is not consolation. It is light.

Love is blind; friendship closes its eyes.

For those who need consolation no means of consolation is so effective as the assertion that in their case no consolation is possible: it implies so great a degree of distinction that they at once hold up their heads again.

There is not enough love and goodness in the world for us to be permitted to give any of it away to imaginary things.

There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.

Love, too, has to be learned.