One man may be more cunning than another, but no one can be more cunning than all the world.

Love can no more continue without a constant motion than fire can; and when once you take hope and fear away, you take from it its very life and being.

We can be more clever than one, but not more clever than all.

When our vices desert us, we flatter ourselves that we are deserting our vices.

Hope, deceiving as it is, serves at least to lead us to the end of our lives by an agreeable route.

We like to read others but we do not like to be read.

It is oftener by the estimation of our own feelings that we exaggerate the good qualities of others than by their merit, and when we praise them we wish to attract their praise.