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

The hatred we bear our enemies injures their happiness less than our own.

There is certainly no beauty on earth which exceeds the natural loveliness of woman.

The most exacting jailer is our own conscience.

There is a proverb in the South that a woman laughs when she can, and weeps when she pleases.

When our friends are alive, we see the good qualities they lack; dead, we remember only those they possessed.

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