It is virtue which should determine us in the choice of our friends, without inquiring into their good or evil fortune.

The pleasure of criticizing takes away from us the pleasure of being moved by some very fine things.

In Friendship we only see those faults which may be prejudicial to our friends. In love we see no faults but those by which we suffer ourselves.

As riches and honor forsake a man, we discover him to be a fool, but nobody could find it out in his prosperity.

A man starts upon a sudden, takes Pen, Ink, and Paper, and without ever having had a thought of it before, resolves within himself he will write a Book; he has no Talent at Writing, but he wants fifty Guineas.

Great things astonish us, and small dishearten us. Custom makes both familiar.

It is easier to enrich ourselves with a thousand virtues, than to correct ourselves of a single fault.