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.

The extreme delight we experience in talking about ourselves should warn us that those who listen do not share it.

The only good imitations are those that poke fun at bad originals.

For most men the love of justice is only the fear of suffering injustice.

If you cannot find peace in yourself, it is useless to look for it elsewhere.

We often shed tears that deceive ourselves after deceiving others.

We have more indolence in the mind than in the body.