Doubt springs from the mind; faith is the daughter of the soul.

In all that surrounds him the egotist sees only the frame of his own portrait.

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

We find ourselves less witty in remembering what we have said than in dreaming of what we would have said.

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

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

Experience unveils too late the snares laid for youth; it is the white frost which discovers the spider's web when the flies are no longer there to be caught.