Love, like fire, cannot subsist without constant impulse; it ceases to live from the moment it ceases to hope or to fear.

It is no tragedy to do ungrateful people favors, but it is unbearable to be indebted to a scoundrel.

There is a sort of love whose very excessiveness prevents the lover's being jealous.

Solemnity is a device of the body to hide the faults of the mind.

There is nothing men are so generous of as advice.

Idleness and constancy fix the mind to what it finds easy and agreeable. This habit always confines and cramps up our knowledge; and no one has ever taken the trouble to stretch and carry his understanding as far as it could go.

Pity is a sense of our own misfortunes in those of another man; it is a sort of foresight of the disasters which may befall ourselves. We assist others,, in order that they may assist us on like occasions; so that the services we offer to the unfortunate are in reality so many anticipated kindnesses to ourselves.