What men have called friendship is only a social arrangement, a mutual adjustment of interests, an interchange of services given and received; it is, in sum, simply a business from which those involved propose to derive a steady profit for their own self-love.

Every one speaks well of his own heart, but no one dares speak well of his own mind.

If it were not for poetry, few men would ever fall in love.

Thinkers think and doers do. But until the thinkers do and the doers think, progress will be just another word in the already overburdened vocabulary by sense.

We come altogether fresh and raw into the several stages of life, and often find ourselves without experience, despite our years.

In infants, levity is a prettiness; in men a shameful defect; but in old age, a monstrous folly.

Love, like fire, cannot subsist without constant impulse; it ceases to live from the moment it ceases to hope or to fear.