That experience which does not make us better makes us worse.

Our interests are grains of opium to our consciences, but they only put it to sleep for a terrible awakening.

Genius, like a torch, shines less in the broad daylight of the present than in the night of the past.

Let us respect gray Lairs, but, above all, our own.

An angry woman is vindictive beyond measure, and hesitates at nothing in her bitterness.

Adversity, which makes us indulgent to others, renders them severe towards us.

The politics of courtiers resemble their shadows; they cringe and turn with the sun of the day.