We always like those who admire us.

The heart of man ever finds a constant succession of passions, so that the destroying and pulling down of one proves generally tobe nothing else but the production and the setting up of another.

Youth is a continual intoxication; it is the fever of reason.

People's personalities, like buildings, have various facades, some pleasant to view, some not.

Ability wins us the esteem of the true men; luck, that of the people.

What renders other people's vanity insufferable is that it wounds our own.

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