The true worth of a soul is revealed as much by the motive it attributes to the actions of others as by its own deeds.

The happiness of the tender heart is increased by what it can take away from the wretchedness of others.

We tire of those pleasures we take, but never of those we give.

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

Pleasure limps for him. who enjoys it alone.

The grave is a crucible where memory is purified; we only remember a dead friend by those qualities which make him regretted.

The most exacting jailer is our own conscience.