It is not what we have but what we enjoy that constitutes our abundance.
That experience which does not make us better makes us worse.
That prudery which survives youth and beauty resembles a scarecrow left in the fields after harvest.
We forget the origin of a parvenu if he remembers it; we remember it if he forgets it.
Where talent is a dwarf, self-esteem is a giant.
The happiness of the tender heart is increased by what it can take away from the wretchedness of others.