We are more often treacherous through weakness than through calculation.

We sometimes imagine we hate flattery, but we only hate the way we are flattered.

It is not in the power of even the most crafty dissimulation to conceal love long, where it really is, nor to counterfeit it long where it is not.

We are very far from always knowing our own wishes.

Love of fame, fear of disgrace, schemes for advancement, desire to make life comfortable and pleasant, and the urge to humiliate others are often at the root of the valour men hold in such high esteem.

When a man must force himself to be faithful in his love, this is hardly better than unfaithfulness.

It is a species of coquetry to make a parade of never practising it.