Envy is more irreconcilable than hatred.

Idiots and lunatics see only their own wit.

Our concern for the loss of our friends is not always from a sense of their worth, but rather of our own need of them and that we have lost some who had a good opinion of us.

It is with true love as it is with ghosts; everyone talks about it, but few have seen it.

We often pride ourselves on even the most criminal passions, but envy is a timid and shamefaced passion we never dare to acknowledge.

The only thing that should astonish us is that anything can yet astonish us.

We are always bored by the very people by whom it is vital not to be bored.