“If this be not love, it is madness, and then it is pardonable.” — William Congreve

She likes herself, yet others hates, For that which in herself she prizes; And while she laughs at them, forgets She is the thing that she despises.

You are a woman: you must never speak what you think; your words must contradict your thoughts, but your actions may contradict your words.

Come, come, leave business to idlers, and wisdom to fools: they have need of 'em: wit be my faculty, and pleasure my occupation, and let father Time shake his glass.

A little disdain is not amiss; a little scorn is alluring.