We are easily comforted for the misfortunes of our friends, when those misfortunes give us an occasion of expressing our affection and solicitude.

There is an excess both in happiness and misery above our power of sensation.

We are inconsolable at being deceived by our enemies and being betrayed by our friends, yet we are often content in be being treated like that by our own selves.

Quarrels would not last long if the fault was only on one side.

More men are guilty of treason through weakness than any studied design to betray.

Whatever pretended causes we may blame our afflictions upon, it is often nothing but self-interest and vanity that produce them.

We are never either so fortunate or so misfortunate as we imagine.