The truest comparison we can make of love is to liken it to a fever; we have no more power over the one than the other, either as to its violence or duration.

Our aversion to lying is commonly a secret ambition to make what we say considerable, and have every word received with a religious respect.

Only strong natures can really be sweet ones; those that seem sweet are in general only weak, and may easily turn sour.

Tricks and treachery are merely proofs of lack of skill.

There are certain people fated to be fools; they not only commit follies by choice, but are even constrained to do so by fortune.

In misfortune we often mistake dejection for constancy; we bear it without daring to look on it; like cowards, who suffer themselves to be murdered without resistance.

In the human heart there is a ceaseless birth of passions, so that the destruction of one is almost always the establishment of another.