Jealousy is not so much the love of another as the love of ourselves.

Love is one and the same in the original; but there are a thousand different copies of it.

When great men permit themselves to be cast down by the continuance of misfortune, they show us that they were only sustained by ambition, and not by their mind; so that PLUS a great vanity, heroes are made like other men.

We speak little if not egged on by vanity.

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

In love deceit nearly always goes further than mistrust.

If we have not peace within ourselves, it is in vain to seek it from outward sources.