Though nature be ever so generous, yet can she not make a hero alone. Fortune must contribute her part too; and till both concur, the work cannot be perfected.

Death and the sun are not to be looked at steadily.

Too great refinement is false delicacy, and true delicacy is solid refinement.

We only confess our little faults to persuade people that we have no big ones.

Gratitude is like credit; it is the backbone of our relations; frequently we pay our debts not because equity demands that we should, but to facilitate future loans.

We often persuade ourselves to love people who are more powerful than we are, yet interest alone produces our friendship; we do not give our hearts away for the good we wish to do, but for that we expect to receive.

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