There are two sorts of constancy in love one arises from continually discovering in the loved person new subjects for love, the other arises from our making a merit of being constant.

Some people resemble ballads which are only sung for a certain time.

Humility is often only a feigned submissiveness by which men hope to bring other people to submit to them; it is a more calculated sort of pride.

Envy is more irreconcilable than hatred.

Sincerity is a certain openness of heart. It is to be found in very few, and what we commonly look upon to be so is only a cunningsort of dissimulation, to insinuate ourselves into the confidence of others.

Perfect courage is to do without witnesses what one would be capable of doing with the world looking on.

Our distrust of another justifies his deceit.