There is a kind of elevation which does not depend on fortune; it is a certain air which distinguishes us, and seems to destine us for great things; it is a price which we imperceptibly set upon ourselves.

It is with an old love as it is with old age a man lives to all the miseries, but is dead to all the pleasures.

Our virtues are often, in reality, no better than vices disguised.

Honest people will respect us for our merit: the public, for our luck.

Those that have had great passions esteem themselves for the rest of their lives fortunate and unfortunate in being cured of them.

Neither the sun nor death can be looked at steadily.

We often boast that we are never bored; but yet we are so conceited that we do not perceive how often we bore others.