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

In love we are not only liable to betray ourselves, but also the secrets of others.

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

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

Religion is the hospital of the souls that the world has wounded.

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

Without big words, how could many people say small things?