All men's misfortunes spring from their hatred of being alone.
Every hour in itself, as it respects us in particular, is the only one we can call our own.
The same vices which are huge and insupportable in others we do not feel in ourselves.
A coxcomb is one whom simpletons believe to be a man of merit.
Days, months, years fly away, and irrecoverably sink in the abyss of time.
There is as much trickery required to grow rich by a stupid book as there is folly in buying it.