The game is not worth the candle.

A lie travels round the world while truth is putting her boots on.

Between two stools one sits on the ground.

With enough 'ifs' we could put Paris in a bottle.

No rose without a thorn.

He who can lick can bite.

The price spoils the pleasure.

Everything passes everything wears out everything breaks.

There is no pillow so soft as a clear conscience.

Whoever profits by the crime is guilty of it.

Only he who does nothing makes no mistakes.

Love hurts. Love is fragile. Love comes like a breath of magic, then departs leaving us feeling empty, alone, a paper cup blowing on the wind.

The implication that there was something wrong with the war plan is amusing.

A little nonsense now and then is not a bad thing - where would we politicians be if we were not allowed to talk it sometimes.

You can be sure that most of the high positions in the country would be empty if one were admitted only after an examination as severe as the one we painters must pass.

Nothing but love can answer to love; no affection, no kindness, no care, can supply its place: it is its own sweet want.

Some men's reputation seems like seed-wheat, which thrives best when brought from a distance.

I do feel a responsibility because most people like me that are my age or younger, they don't quite make it over to the jazz side. They flirt with it, but they don't quite marry it.

What is one man's gain is another's loss.

Those who really deserve praise are the people who, while human enough to enjoy power, nevertheless pay more attention to justice than they are compelled to do by their situation.