Hope, deceiving as it is, serves at least to lead us to the end of our lives by an agreeable route.

The reason we do not let our friends see the very bottom of our hearts is not so much distrust of them as distrust of ourselves.

We are better pleased to see those on whom we confer benefits than those from whom we receive them.

We own up to minor failings, but only so as to convince others that we have no major ones.

It is harder to hide the feelings we have than to feign the ones we do not have.

Were we faultless, we would not derive such satisfaction from remarking the faults of others.

Fortune never appears so blind as to those to whom she does no good.