We are so used to dissembling with others that in time we come to deceive and dissemble with ourselves.
All women seem by nature to be coquettes.
Youth is a continual intoxication; it is the fever of reason.
The constancy of the wise is only the talent of concealing the agitation of their hearts.
Nothing is rarer than real goodness.
The secret of pleasing in conversation is not to explain too much everything; to say them half and leave a little for divination is a mark of the good opinion we have of others, and nothing flatters their self-love more.