Whatever pretended causes we may blame our afflictions upon, it is often nothing but self-interest and vanity that produce them.

Every one complains of a poor memory, no one of a weak judgment.

In the human heart there is a ceaseless birth of passions, so that the destruction of one is almost always the establishment of another.

We seldom praise anyone in good earnest, except such as admire us.

There are follies as catching as contagious disorders.

We have more ability than will power, and it is often an excuse to ourselves that we imagine that things are impossible.

If we never flattered ourselves we should have but scant pleasure.