It is no tragedy to do ungrateful people favors, but it is unbearable to be indebted to a scoundrel.

Pity is a sense of our own misfortunes in those of another man; it is a sort of foresight of the disasters which may befall ourselves. We assist others,, in order that they may assist us on like occasions; so that the services we offer to the unfortunate are in reality so many anticipated kindnesses to ourselves.

It is not enough that we should succeed, but our friends must fail as well.

We feel good and ill only in proportion to our self-love.

If we judge love by most of its effects, it resembles rather hatred than affection.

None deserve praise for being good who have not the spirit to be bad: goodness, for the most part, is nothing but indolence or weakness of will.

How deceitful hope may be, yet she carries us on pleasantly to the end of life.