People always complain about their memories, never about their minds.
Extreme boredom provides its own antidote.
Were we faultless, we would not derive such satisfaction from remarking the faults of others.
No man deserves to be praised for his goodness, who has it not in his power to be wicked. Goodness without that power is generally nothing more than sloth, or an impotence of will.
There is a kind of love, the excess of which forbids jealousy.
Weakness of character is the only defect which cannot be amended.