The defects of the mind, like those of the face, grow worse with age.

If we are incapable of finding peace in ourselves, it is pointless to search elsewhere.

The whimsicalness of our own humor is a thousand times more fickle and unaccountable than what we blame so much in fortune.

Those only are despicable who fear to be despised.

We are almost always bored by just those whom we must not find boring.

Friendship is a traffic wherein self-love always proposes to be the gainer.

Simplicity is a delicate imposition.