There are very few people who are not ashamed of having been in love when they no longer love each other.

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

In the intercourse of life, we please more by our faults than by our good qualities.

Death and the sun are not to be looked at steadily.

Whatever discoveries we may have made in the regions of self-love, there still remain many unknown lands.

That which makes the vanity of others unbearable to us is that which wounds our own.

He that fancies such a sufficiency in himself that he can live without all the world is greatly mistaken; but he that imagines himself so necessary that other people cannot live without him is a great deal more mistaken.