We always love those who admire us, but we do not always love those whom we admire.

Sometimes, occasions occur in life which demand you to be a little foolish in order to skillfully extricate yourself.

We should often feel ashamed of our best actions if the world could see all the motives which produced them.

However great the advantages given us by nature, it is not she alone, but fortune with her, which makes heroes.

There is a kind of love, the excess of which forbids jealousy.

Avarice often produces opposite results: there are an infinite number of persons who sacrifice their property to doubtful and distant expectations; others mistake great future advantages for small present interests.

We always love those who admire us, but we do not always love those whom we admire.