I find just as much profit in cultivating my hates as my loves.

I have never produced anything good except by a long succession of slight efforts.

I can't expect others to share my virtues. It's good enough for me if they share my vices.

But can one still make resolutions when one is over forty? I live according to twenty-year-old habits.

True kindness presupposes the faculty of imagining as one's own the suffering and joys of others.

The thing I am most aware of is my limits. And this is natural; for I never, or almost never, occupy the middle of my cage; my whole being surges toward the bars.

Christianity, above all, consoles; but there are naturally happy souls who do not need consolation. Consequently Christianity begins by making such souls unhappy, for otherwise it would have no power over them.