Our foibles are really what make us lovable.

No two men see the world exactly alike, and different temperaments will apply in different ways a principle that they both acknowledge.

Every decided colour does a certain violence to the eye, and forces the organ to opposition.

Self-love exaggerates our faults as well as our virtues.

Microscopes and telescopes really confuse our minds.

Let's plunge ourselves into the roar of time, the whirl of accident; may pain and pleasure, success and failure, shift as they will -- it's only action that can make a man.

And I have again observed, my dear friend, in this trifling affair, that misunderstandings and neglect occasion more mischief in the world than even malice and wickedness. At all events, the two latter are of less frequent occurrence.