publius quotes

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He who would not be idle, let him fall in love.
I hate, and yet must love the thing I hate.
Struggling over my fickle heart, love draws it now this
way, and now hate that--but love, I think, is winning. I
Jove send me more such afternoons as this.
O fool, what else is sleep but chill death's likeness?
We take no pleasure in permitted joys,
But what's forbidden is more keenly sought.
Every lover is a soldier.
She who resists as though she would not win,
By her own treason falls an easy prey.
Time was when genius was more precious than gold, but
now to have nothing is monstrous barbarism.
He who sins easily, sins less. The very power
Renders less vigorous the roots of evil.
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