People have a peculiar pleasure in making converts, that is, in causing others to enjoy what they enjoy, thus finding their own likeness represented and reflected back to them.

Nature understands no jesting. She is always true, always serious, always severe. She is always right, and the errors are always those of man.

Hatred is partial, but love is still more so.

We can really respect a man only if he doesn't always look out for himself.

What makes people happy is activity; changing evil itself into good by power, working in a God like manner.

Each ten years of a man's life has its own fortunes, its own hopes, its own desires.

Woe to falsehood! it affords no relief to the breast, like truth; it gives us no comfort, pains him who forges it, and like an arrow directed by a god flies back and wounds the archer.