A man often believes himself leader when he is led; as his mind endeavors to reach one goal, his heart insensibly drags him towards another.

Those only are despicable who fear to be despised.

There is real love just as there are real ghosts; every person speaks of it, few persons have seen it.

All the passions are nothing else than different degrees of heat and cold of the blood.

Happy people rarely correct their faults; they consider themselves vindicated, since fortune endorses their evil ways.

It is far better to be deceived than undeceived by those whom we tenderly love.

That good disposition which boasts of being most tender is often stifled by the least urging of self-interest.