There's nothing sweeter than a real friend: Not only is he prompt to lend— An angler delicate, he fishes The very deepest of your wishes, And spares your modesty the task His friendly aid to ask. A dream, a shadow, wakes his fear, When pointing at the object dear.

Habit, to which all of us are more or less slaves.

Man is so made that when anything fires his soul, impossibilities vanish.

Be advised that all flatterers live at the expense of those who listen to them.

No path of flowers leads to glory.

We believe no evil till the evil's done

All the brains in the world are powerless against the sort of stupidity that is in fashion.