Where talent is a dwarf, self-esteem is a giant.

Envy, like flame, blackens that which is above it, and which it cannot reach.

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.

No woman dares express all she thinks.

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

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

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