We seek our happiness outside ourselves, and in the opinion of men we know to be flatterers, insincere, unjust, full of envy, caprice and prejudice.

You may drive a dog off the King's armchair, and it will climb into the preacher's pulpit; he views the world unmoved, unembarrassed, unabashed.

There is what is called the highway to posts and honor, and there is a cross and by way, which is much the shortest.

A man of the world must seem to be what he wishes to be thought.

It is motive alone that gives real value to the actions of men, and disinterestedness puts the cap to it.

All of our unhappiness comes from our inability to be alone.

Criticism is as often a trade as a science, requiring, as it does, more health than wit, more labour than capacity, more practice than genius.