The love of new acquaintance comes not so much from being weary of what we had before, or from any satisfaction there is in change, as from the distaste we feel in being too little admired by those that know us too well, and the hope of being more admired by those that know us less.

Sincerity is a certain openness of heart. It is to be found in very few, and what we commonly look upon to be so is only a cunningsort of dissimulation, to insinuate ourselves into the confidence of others.

The desire to seem clever often keeps us from being so.

Most men, like plants, possess hidden qualities which chance discovers.

We often bore others when we think we cannot possibly bore them.

The greatest fault of a penetrating wit is to go beyond the mark.

Were we not proud ourselves, we should not complain of the pride of others.