We hope to grow old and we dread old age; that is to say, we love life and we flee from death.

The slave has but one master, the ambitious man has as many as there are persons whose aid may contribute to the advancement of his fortunes.

The reason that women do not love one another is - men.

A simple garb is the proper costume of the vulgar; it is cut for them, and exactly suits their measure, but it is an ornament for those who have filled up their lives with great deeds. I liken them to beauty in dishabille, but more bewitching on that account.

Friendship * * * is a long time in forming, it is of slow growth, through many trials and months of familiarity.

When a secret is revealed, it is the fault of the man who confided it.

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