Conscience, like a child, is soon lulled to sleep.
A sealed book, at whose contents we tremble.
Fame is bought by happiness.
Ah, tell me not that memory sheds gladness o'er the past, what is recalled by faded flowers, save that they did not last?
he who seeks pleasure with reference to himself, not others, will ever find that pleasure is only another name for discontent.
Habit is a second nature, and what was at first pleasure, is next necessity.