If we could but paint with the hand what we see with the eye.
People who are in love suspect nothing or everything.
Like hunger, physical love is a necessity. But man's appetite for amour is never so regular or so sustained as his appetite for the delights of the table.
Tradesmen regard an author with a mixed feeling of terror, compassion and curiosity.
How can we explain the perpetuity of envy--a vice which yields no return?
Virtue is always too much of a piece and too ignorant of those shades of feeling and of temperament that enable us to squint when we are placed in a false position.