Emotion is primarily about nothing and much of it remains about nothing to the end.

Fanaticism consists of redoubling your effort when you have forgotten your aim.

We crave support in vanity, as we do in religion, and never forgive contradictions in that sphere.

The truth is cruel, but it can be loved, and it makes free those who have loved it.

All beauties are to be honored, but only one embraced.

Memory itself is an internal rumour; and when to this hearsay within the mind we add the falsified echoes that reach us from others, we have but a shifting and unseizable basis to build upon. The picture we frame of the past changes continually and grows every day less similar to the original experience which it purports to describe.

A friend's only gift is himself.